#like the way she's started to frame these songs as the men having the power instead of tearing down other women is very interesting to me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

weemsfreak · 8 months

Text

Full Circle -Par 3

Part 1

Larissa Weems x fReaderOC

Summary: After Prudence's fathers death, she struggles to get back to her sport, golf. Larissa finally has time to indulge in her long forgotten sport as well, meeting some friends and culprits along the way. Both women hope to find joy on the course, but will they find something unexpected as well? ~6.9k words.

✂ Song that goes well with the fic: Dear Prudence by Siouxsie & The Banshees (linked at bottom)

Note: Hi everyone! So, many people seemed to like the idea of Larissa being part of a country club. I chose golf because I'm more familiar with it than tennis or anything else. There were so many ways I wanted this to go, so I hope that I met your expectations! This is pt 1 of probably 2. (If anyone else wants to be tagged in pt 2, let me know)

Warnings: A bit of misogyny, harassment, alcohol

@dopenightmaretyphoon @danverssawyer @dingdongthetail

Also, you're welcome for blessing your eyes with this image. I wanted to create digital art of her, but I haven't had time, so this is partially AI generated.

☼☼☼

Larissa's life had always been busy, excessively busy. For years, she had been caught up in the rollercoaster of a journey to becoming a teacher at Nevermore Academy, and eventually the Headmistress. She has had little to no time for herself, even during the summer months. However, about five years ago, a weight had been lifted. Well, it felt lighter, as she now had time. Time to return to a passion that she had long neglected and missed dearly. 'You're not getting any younger', she reminded herself. 'Get back out there'.

With that, she found herself at a golf club just outside of Jericho, purchasing a new set of clubs.

After playing alone for most of the season and getting back into the grove of things, she crossed paths with a trio of seasoned golfers: Tom, Glen, and Richard. They had noticed her playing by herself a few times, and one day asked if she would like to join their group.

"What's a pretty little thing like you doing playing alone?" Richard asked, winking at Larissa. The headmistress scoffed at the label, 'pretty little thing'. "I'm just getting back into the swing of things" she replied, trying to brush off his comment. "Come play with us, we've never had the pleasure of playing with a young lady before" Richard replied, wiggling his eyebrows. Tom chimed in, "Yeah, we could teach you a thing or two."

Larissa reluctantly agreed to join the men, and found that their persistent staring during her address wasn't doing her any favors, as her shots were less than ideal. About halfway through the game, Larissa regained some confidence, and started putting more power into her shots. "Pretty good, for a woman" Richard commented with a sly smile. Larissa rolled her eyes at him.

Despite Richards teasing and rude comments, the older men had recognized the potential in the younger woman. They knew that she had strength hidden behind that 'slender frame of hers', as they called it. Hell, she already had the precision.

"I'll make you a deal" Richard smugly said, smirking up at the woman. She straightened her posture and nodded down at him, "Alright." Richard observed Larissa's clubs, noting that they were top of the line. Perhaps money wouldn't motivate this woman. "You got a very nice set of clubs there, it's clear that you have potential. If you beat me on this hole, I'll give you $100." Larissa raised her eyebrows, a bet? She wasn't motivated by the money much, but beating this elderly man and showing them up, well, that was intriguing. "Deal" she said confidently.

As it was, Larissa put her all into everything that she did. Her drive sent the ball soaring with remarkable distance and precision. When it came time to putt, she had hope that she could beat Richard, for she prided herself on her putting skills, which for a lot of people was not a forte. Larissa and Tom managed to finish with a birdie, and Richard and Glen on par. "Well I'll be" Tom marveled. Richard let his eyes rake over Larissa's tall form, a smile pulling at his lips. "She has talent and beauty gentlemen, she's a keeper." Larissa couldn’t' help but shake her head at him as she let out a giggle. "Here you are" Richard said, handing Larissa a crisp hundred dollar bill. "Don't spend it all in one place."

Larissa continued to play with the three men for years, earning their respect and forgoing genuine friendships. She learned a lot from them, not only about golf, but also about life. When a golf season ended, she looked forward to the next. But, as fate would have it, after three seasons Richard didn't show up for golf. Tom and Glen solemnly informed Larissa that he had passed away. She silently thanked him for what he did for her, for he had turned her into a better golfer.

☼☼☼

You have been playing golf since you were a child. Over the years you have learned all the ins and outs of the game from your father, who had been a professional golfer himself at one point. His passion, and yours, for the sport was unmatched. Together you dedicated countless hours to perfecting your swing, honing your putting, and mastering every aspect of the game.

After your fathers passing, you found it very hard to muster the energy or motivation to play, especially without him by your side. Yes, you were grieving, your father and the game. It felt like when you lost him, that part of your life was lost too. Golf, for you, was lost in translation, out of the question, and thrown into the abyss.

And that was how you felt, for the longest time. That was, until your most recent life changing decision. You quickly fell in love with the mountains, greenery, and breath of fresh air that was Jericho, Vermont. You had never ventured far from your hometown, but now, you figured it was time.

Your father had gifted you a set of clubs once you had stopped growing. They were the latest models at the time, and they suited you perfectly. The only club in your bag that was not so new, was your driver. When you were younger and your father had stopped playing professionally, he had gifted you his pride and joy, his driver. After years of wear and tear, though, it was becoming a bit shabby.

You pulled up to the golf course just outside of Jericho, 'West Bolton Golf Club'. You had been here a couple of times recently, your first time back out was harder for you than you had anticipated. Yet, after not playing for a long while, you were still as good as ever. A tad rusty, you will admit, but you thought your father would be proud. You stood your clubs next to a table outside the clubhouse and opted for a sandwich before teeing off. You hummed quietly as you ate, soaking in the sun and the warmth it brought you. It was a beautiful day for golfing, gorgeous in comparison to the other days that you were here.

As you sat and ate, excited to get out on the course, you heard some men laughing at a nearby table. Old men jokes, you thought, never really funny. You turned your attention to them as you watched an older man reach his hand out and playfully swat at a woman's arm. They were all laughing, seeming like they were genuinely enjoying each others company, it made you smile. When you were finished with your sandwich, you walked to the trash and discarded your wrapper, then made your way back to your table. You had caught the eye of one of the older men, as he watched you sit back down and rearrange your clubs. You were glancing at the woman at the table, trying your best to be somewhat stealthy. She was an image, she looked like she was straight out of an old movie. She was definitely a member here, there was no doubt about that. Her whole demeanour screamed wealthy, though it was odd. Usually it would be no surprise to see an older woman at a golf club dressed to the nines, but this woman looked considerably younger than these elderly men. The color of her hair was making you think otherwise, but you'd swear it to be blonde, not white. "Hi there" one of the old men smiled, waving at you and pulling you away from your staring. You smiled and looked around, was he talking to you? He was looking at you. "Hi" you waved back, blushing in embarrassment.

Your attempt to be stealthy was not successful, it seemed. He definitely saw you gazing at the woman, what if she was his wife? The man smiled and made a 'come here' gesture with his hand, to which you stood and made your way to their table. "I haven't seen you here before, you new?" You looked around the table and found six eyes focused on you, two of which were distractingly beautiful. You swallowed, "Yes, I just moved here." The man nodded and responded warmly, "Well, welcome to West Bolton, sit, sit." You returned a quiet thanks before settling in the only empty chair, next to the woman. "I'm Glen, this is Tom" Glen gestured to the man beside him, then turned to the woman, "and this is Larissa." Tom nodded your way, and Larissa extended her hand with an enchanting red-lipped smile. The woman's appearance was nothing short of stunning. She exuded an air of wealth and sophistication, from her golf attire to her jewelry, from her meticulously styled hair to her bold yet elegant makeup. The way she laughed, the way she drank her wine, not to mention her confident demeanor, screamed at you. It was clear now that she was considerably younger than the older men, her porcelain-like complexion fixing you in a trance.

"Nice to meet you, darling" she greeted. You stammered as you shook her hand. You knew that you should give them your name in return, but your breath caught in your throat when the woman's smooth British accent hit your ears. "Y-you too, I'm Prudence." The woman continued to hold your gaze, and you then realized how close you were sitting to her. From this proximity, you could see that her skin was smooth and pale. You couldn't help but feel that you'd hurt her if you touched it. You didn't mean it in the way that she looked old and fragile though, heavens no, but in the way that artists would portray angels- bright, creamy, delicate, exquisite.

"So Prudence, do you play often?" Tom asked, breaking the silence. You shook your head, "Not much anymore, but I used to." Tom gestured to your clubs, "Those are nice clubs you got there." You smiled and nodded in agreement, "Thank you. My father gave them to me, he taught me how to play." "Who's your father? Would we know him?" Glen asked in curiosity. "Paul Clair" you replied proudly. Tom's eyebrows raised, "Paul Clair? From Tennessee?" You confirmed with a nod, "That's him." The old men paused and exchanged glances. "He was excellent at his sport, our condolences" Glen replied. After another moment of silence, Larissa turned to you. "We're going to tee off in a minute, would you like to join us, Prudence?" You considered her invitation, you were intrigued by this woman. But, you were working on your technique, and you didn't want to hold them up.

After politely declining, you allowed the group to get ahead of you before making your way to the first hole. You placed your tee into the ground and set up as you let the fresh air of the fairway fill your lungs, relief flooding your veins. You had always found solace in the manicured fairways and lush greens, which you desperately needed recently, especially today. After teeing off and sending the ball soaring through the sky, you smiled to yourself, "Pru, you still got it".

You took your time to correct your silly mistakes and scold yourself for things about which you knew better, until half way through, when you caught up with the group in front of you. Glen, Tom, and Larissa were at the next hole, joined now by two younger men. You scrunched your face up in confusion, there were only four allowed in a group.

Tom spoke to the newcomers, who looked eager to impress. "Newbies, eh? You wanna learn a few things?" The younger guys exchanged glances before nodding at the old man, "Yeah, sure." Tom demonstrated, setting up the ball and taking his shot, sending it straight down the fairway, out of sight. "Alright, your turn" Tom motioned to one of the boys. You observed the younger men, noticing that they carried themselves rather tall, chests puffed out and chins high. One of them walked up to the tee box and set his ball up, gripping his club and getting into position. The other boy was seemingly fixated on Larissa, and you realized that she was who they were eager to impress. You watched as the ball was sent flying with great strength, but it was a slice, and it landed in the trees. The next newbie took a turn, but didn't make contact with the ball on his first swing. He cursed before trying again and making contact, but not sending the ball far, at all. "Alright, alright" Tom intervened, giving the boys a few tips. After a few minutes, Tom walked back over to Glen and elbowed him playfully. You watched as Larissa chuckled and shook her head, as if she knew what was coming. "Alright boys, I'll make you both a deal." The boys smiled and replied with okays. Tom pointed to Larissa. "If one of you drive the ball further and with more precision than Larissa here, I'll give you each $50." The boys both turned their attention to Larissa, before giving her a one over and a smile. "You boys better buy the woman a drink with your winnings" Glen joked, the boys agreed happily.

You moved closer, eager to see how this bet would play out. Larissa turned to you as you walked up behind her. She smiled, "Shall I give them a run for his money?" You chuckled and nodded your head, "Give it all you've got."

The boys tried again, determined to impress. You had to give it to them, they did better than the first time. "Not bad boys, not bad" Tom praised. "You're up, Rissa." Larissa approached the tee box with a graceful sway of her hips, and placed the tee in the ground. As she set up, you couldn't help but roll your eyes. The boys wandering gazes were venturing lower, they weren't even trying to hide it. Larissa took an elegant practice swing before aligning her club up with the ball. You watched her, captivated by her movements. She was so proper and graceful with everything that she did, every move that she made. She swung and drove the ball, sending it straight down the fairway with grace. "I think that went further than mine" Tom laughed. The boys let out frustrated groans and chuckled in embarrassment. "Well boys, the lady beat you. Don't dwell on it too much, I'll buy you both a drink when were finished." You watched as they all packed their clubs and hopped into their golf carts. Larissa headed to the cart and returned her driver, but before she left, she turned her attention to you and gave you a wink, leaving you in awe.

☼☼☼

After a particularly taxing day at work, you sought comfort from the golf course. You decided to sit at a table and order a drink before you started. It was relatively calm tonight, as the beautiful day had turned chilly far too soon. However, the day turned beautiful once more when you caught a glimpse of light blonde hair in a passing group of people. To your surprise, and utter delight, Larissa was sitting at a table, alone. You wasted no time in gathering your belongings and walking over to her. "Hi!" you greeted, gazing down at the older woman. Larissa's face lit up with a smile when she met your eyes, "Hi darling, have a seat."

You settled into the chair beside her and took note of her choice of drink, red wine. You watched as long elegant fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass and manicured hands brought it to her lips. "You blew the boys out of the water the other day, quite impressive" you giggled. Larissa swallowed and chuckled, "Oh, you flatter me so."

You looked around at her empty table, "Where's Glen and Tom?" Larissa waved her hand dismissively, "Sometimes they're too much. I'm flying solo today." You nodded in agreement, "So, how do you know them?"

The woman smiled, reminiscing about the day she met her older friends. "Well, when I first started here, they made a bet with me, much like yesterday. Richard, may he rest in peace, said that if I bet him, he'd give me a hundred dollars." Larissa chuckled, shaking her head, "I got the hundred, and they invited me to play with them. At first they flirted with me and made stupid jokes, but I fired back, and they soon learned that I wasn't going to take any shit."

You laughed at Larissa's story, "Wow, that's amazing!" The woman nodded, "I still have the hundred, it's on my wall." Your eyes widened in shock, you would've spent that money so fast. "So neither of them are your boyfriend, or husband?" you blurted. Immediately regretting your question, you slapped a hand over your mouth. You don't know what prompted you to ask that, you just wanted to clarify, for some reason. Larissa burst into laughter, throwing her head back as her hand flew to her chest. "No! No love, I'm not with either of them" she replied reassuringly. You let out a breath of relief, "Oh! Okay." Larissa suddenly narrowed her eyes at you. "Did you really think I was that old?" Heat crept up your cheeks, and you felt the need to explain yourself. "Oh, no! I knew you were younger. Well you look younger, but that doesn't mean anything" you smiled, embarrassed. The woman nodded her head in understanding and looked down at her wine glass. "How old do you think I am?" she asked. You froze, you hated that question. Um, 30? 50? You were horrible at this guessing game. "Umm, 40?" you replied sheepishly, it really was your best guess. She smiled, "Close, I'm 49." Your jaw dropped, she didn't look anywhere near that age, not that 49 was old. "How old do you think I am?" you asked. Larissa furrowed her brow as she studied you carefully. You just sat there, feeling like you were being penetrated by her gaze. "Late twenties" she finally said. You shrugged and smiled, "Yeah, good guess."

After Larissa's red was gone, she asked you to accompany her on the course, to which you happily agreed. This woman was a beast at the game, being on par almost every hole (and sometimes under), and never slicing the ball into the trees, water, or bunker. She was a joy to golf with, sharing tips and tricks whenever you needed them. You thought that she would be an excellent teacher. It was apparent that she loved to help and pass on her knowledge.

You watched from behind as Larissa putted, noting the small details of her form. Her putting form, that was. Well, maybe her physical form too. She wore a baby blue colored golf skirt that showed off her long legs and accentuated her wide hips. Her white colored polo shirt fit her perfectly. Her clothes were always pristine with no wrinkles, you could learn a lot from her. Her shoes were white, of all colors, stained with nothing, no grass, no dirt. As your gaze raked over her form from head to toe, you berated yourself internally, for you were no better than any man.

As the sun set and darkness fell, making it impossible to see, you both decided to call it a night. "You did amazingly today, darling" Larissa complimented. Blushing, you packed up your clubs and took them out of the golf cart. "Thank you Larissa, as did you." Larissa's gaze shifted down to your clubs, and she noticed a charm hanging off of your bag. She took the photo delicately in her fingers, "What's this?" It held a photo of your father, which you had placed in a clear case and attached to your bag. It made you feel like he was with you whenever you golfed. "That's my father. I didn't golf for a long time after he passed, so this makes me feel like he's still golfing with me." Larissa looked at you sincerely before running her hand down your arm soothingly. "Well, I'm so glad that you decided to get back to your sport, Prudence. He would be so proud." Larissa smiled down at you before holding her hand out to you. "Can I have your phone for a moment?" You reached into your pocket and handed her your phone, unsure of her intentions. She quickly entered her number into your contacts and handed it back. She had called herself 'Larissa (from golf)' which made you chuckle. "There's my number, incase you ever want someone to golf with, or just to talk to." You smiled up at the lovely woman, reveling in the warmth that her bright blue eyes radiated. "Thank you, Larissa."

☼☼☼

You found yourself driving to a liquor store in Jericho one evening. You had been non stop thinking about wine recently, but you were unsure as to why, you weren't usually a wine drinker. You were searching the store for a brand or variety that may appeal to you, when you set your eyes on red. You had in mind white, or perhaps rose, but something about red was very, very tempting. You picked up the bottle and read the description, you knew it would be strong and dry. You scrunched your face up in question, why was this so appealing to you? Suddenly, you remembered where you got the craving for red, Larissa.

You heard the door bell ding, indicating that someone was entering the store. Speak of the angel and she shall appear, or rather think of her. Her eyes scanned the store as she subconsciously made her way to your isle. She stood next to you and grabbed a bottle of red, the same bottle that you were holding. She didn't notice you standing there at first, and you used that time to take her in. She was wearing a sage green sleeveless dress, and a scarf tied around her head. She adorned nude colored kitten heels, and when you realized how tall she really was, you gasped lightly. Larissa swiveled her head around quickly to find you peering up at her. "Oh, hello love" she spoke, surprised but delighted to see you. You quickly smiled and averted her gaze, hoping she didn't notice your staring, "Hi Larissa." The woman took the bottle in her hands and held it next to yours. "We have the same taste, do we?" she chuckled lightly. You blushed and spoke hesitantly, "I actually never tried red before." Larissa turned to you with a grin, looking you up and down. "Well, I recommend it. It is my favorite, after all." You nodded, if this was Larissa's favorite, you'd at least try it. "So, I take it you live in Jericho?" You replied with a yes. "As do I" she smiled. After you purchased your wine, you walked out of the shop together. "Would you like to golf together again, Prudence? Perhaps Saturday?" You smiled wide and nodded your head excitedly, "I'd love to, I'll see you then."

☼☼☼

Saturday rolled around and you were eager to get on the course. You had played a couple of times by yourself recently, and your body ached from the exercise. Being out of practice was defiantly taking it's toll on you.

You played with the older woman, and delightfully you two became closer. You learned that Larissa was the headmistress of Nevermore Academy, which you were not surprised about at all. When she had told you what type of school Nevermore was, you were a bit nervous, due to being unfamiliar. As you and her talked though, you became increasingly intrigued by Larissa's stories. You learned that her name was Larissa Weems, and you decided that you loved how her name rolled off of your tongue.

"Do you mind?" Larissa asked with a grin, handing you a bottle of sunscreen. She turned around so that her back was facing you, and pointed to the parts of her shoulders and neck that weren't covered by her tan sleeveless polo. "I can't reach very well, but I'm afraid I burn fairly easily."

You poured some sunscreen out into your hand, gently smoothing it over her skin. The warmth of her pale skin, and the contact in general, quickly brought a blush to your face. You tried your best to not miss any spots as you focused on not feeling, or looking, too flustered. Once you applied the sunscreen, you ran your hands lightly down her forearms. On purpose? By accident? You didn't know. Larissa turned around and took the sunscreen from you with a side smile and a flutter of her lashes, "Your turn."

As you spent more time with the headmistress, you quickly found yourself becoming enamored with the tall woman. She was a remarkable golfer, and you both bonded over your similar taste in clubs and similar techniques. She was easy to talk to, she was very sweet, and she was incredibly kind hearted. She had a playful, youthful spirit that was apparent with her constant jokes and antics. She was always ready to bring a smile to your face. Yet, she possessed a mature and responsible side, and when the situation called for it, she could assert herself firmly. You admired this quality of hers, especially since you tended to avoid confrontations. Larissa was the guidance that you needed in life, yet the friend that would support you. You prayed that your connection with the woman would continue to deepen, as you cherished your moments with her.

☼☼☼

"It's a beautiful day for it" Glen remarked, pulling his driver from his bag.

"Sure is" Tom replied. The older men watched Larissa as she prepared to tee off, carefully placing her tee in the ground and taking a practice swing to gauge her aim, factoring in the breeze.

"So Larissa, we haven't-"

"Tom, can't you see that I'm golfing here?" Larissa interrupted, standing and turning to her friend while narrowing her eyes at him. Tom held up his hands in surrender, "Sorry."

After Larissa took her shot, she turned back to him. "I was going to say that we haven't seen you in a bit. Have you grown tired of us old bags?" he joked, elbowing Glen.

Larissa chuckled and shook her head. "No, of course not. I've just been busy."

Tom and Glen teed off, moving to find their place on the fairway. "Busy huh, with what? You're off for the summer, you can't be doing work" Glen exclaimed.

Larissa rolled her eyes, they loved to get her going sometimes. She glanced down at her ball on the fairway, balancing her hand on her club. "I've just been doing my own thing."

Glen and Tom glanced at each other, giving knowing looks. "You've been playing with that young girl, haven't you?" Glen huffed in false annoyance.

The elder men knew that Larissa was interested in women, and they were always supportive. That's why they found it amusing to watch the young men flirt with her, for they didn't stand a chance. Yet, Larissa has been single for a long while, the old men were aware of that too. She didn't want them making jokes about you and her when you were purely just friends. Hell, she didn't even know if you liked women, let alone her. She scrunched her face up at the older men, hoping to appear convincing in her lie. "No I have not, why would you say that?"

Tom chuckled, "I saw your name in the books."

Larissa stared at them, expressionless, before sighing and nodding her head. "Okay, we have played together a few times."

The old men laughed before moving on to their putting. "Nothing wrong with that" Glen spoke.

"Is she good?" Tom chimed in.

Larissa smiled, thinking back to the times that you two had played together. "Very good, almost as good as I am" she replied, sinking the ball and beating both men by a stroke.

"Shit" Tom murmured.

"Well, bring her out next time, Rissa. We'd love to see her play," Glen suggested.

Larissa gave them a knowing look, "You'd love to annoy her, you mean."

Tom chuckled and placed his hand on Larissa's upper back. "Yes, that too."

☼☼☼

Although you were confident in your golfing abilities most of the time, you had always been nervous about golfing with others. You feared that you might hold them back, or appear too cocky, or god forbid have a particularly bad day. Alas, when Larissa texted you and asked if you wanted to play with her and the older men, you had decided that was 'the way of the game', as your father used to say.

You loaded your clubs into a golf cart and sat next to Larissa. Her outfit of the day caught your attention, as it always did. She looked stunning in her red sleeveless dress, which matched her red lips and contrasted nicely against her porcelain skin. She smiled down at you when she saw you eyeing her outfit. She reached out and stroked your arm, making a rush of warmth spread over you as your gaze shot up to meet hers. "How are you today, darling?"

You felt your heart flutter at her question, her eyes brightly boring into your own. She never failed to make you feel cared for and important. "I'm good Larissa, how are you?"

Larissa turned the cart on and shifted into drive, smiling wide.

"Much better now that I'm here with you."

As Larissa drove to the first hole, you dug out a cold alcoholic beverage. You knew it wasn't allowed on the course, as they wanted you to buy drinks from the shop. Sucks for them, you only had so much money, and the prices at the club were steep. "What have you got there?" Larissa asked, peering down at the can in your hands. "Vodka soda, want one?" You dug through your bag, pulling out another. Larissa shrugged and scrunched up her nose playfully, "Sure, why not."

As the day progressed, you found that you were playing rather well. Glen and Tom occasionally made remarks, one about you being so young, and something about Larissa and women. You didn't know what they were getting at exactly, so you ignored them. Larissa and the men shot comments back and forth as you sat in the background in hysterics. The old men really seemed innocent, and you now understood why Larissa liked them so much. By the 9th hole, you had become relaxed and comfortable with their bickering. It was all in good fun, after all.

"Aww, ducks!" you exclaimed, pointing to ducks in a pond while you were passing by in the golf cart. Larissa turned to catch what you were pointing at and stopped to let you enjoy the moment. However, she stopped so abruptly that Tom and Glen almost rear ended your cart. "Rissa, get going!" Tom yelled. Larissa ignored him and turned to you, "Do you want to go see the ducks darling?"

You excitedly nodded your head and exited the cart, walking over to the pond. You observed the ducks happily as they dived for food and quacked, swimming about the small pond. You remembered how your father would point all the animals out to you while golfing, the ducks in the pond, the rabbits in the woods, and the cows that lived next to the golf course, the one back home. You were always scared that if you didn't send the ball straight, it would curve and hit one of the cows.

"C'mon, they're just ducks" Glen chuckled.

"Leave her alone, what are you in a hurry for" Larissa replied, sitting in the cart patiently watching you. She smiled as she marveled over you. She thought that your interest and love for the simple things was adorable, and she would never want to take any joy away from you. She found that, even though you had only played together a few times, you reminded her to slow down and take her time with things, to appreciate them more. In Larissa's busy everyday life, she had forgotten how to do that. She admired the way you thought about things twice, so that you would do them right, but at the same time, you weren't too caught up in the competition, in the hustle and bustle. You went at your own pace and did your own thing, and that was how it should be.

You walked back to the cart and got in, smiling ear to ear. You were grateful for her support, and you appreciated her sticking up for you. "Thanks, Larissa" you said, blushing slightly at her. "Of course love" she replied, reaching for your hand and stroking her thumb over your skin.

You were teeing off at the next hole when Glen noted your worn out driver. "You got a lot of use out of that" he said, pointing to the scuffed up and dented head. You picked it up and brushed it off, "Yea, I guess I could use a new one." "You'd do better with a new one, that one is probably throwing you off" Tom noted. You nodded and chuckled, "I'll get a new one, eventually." Larissa took note of your attitude, it was like something was bothering you. "They have nice ones at the shop darling, we can go look at them" she chimed in. You shrugged, "Maybe another day, I'll have to save up" you embarrassingly admitted.

You sat in the golf cart enjoying a snack as Larissa conversed with the older men. Your jaw almost dropped when your gaze landed on her, the sun cascading around her form and accentuating her red accents. The sky was unusually colorful today, with pink, orange, and yellow hues blended together smoothly. Larissa's smile glowed even more than on a normal day, and her eyes crinkled with joy. She was truly a breathtaking image. An image. You gasped excitedly when you recalled packing your polaroid camera, and you quickly pulled it out of your bag. You looked through the camera lens and focused it on her, your hands shaking as you tried to keep it steady. As you were about to snap the photo, Larissa turned and started walking toward your cart. You pulled away from the camera nervously, hoping to snap a photo without her seeing. You said screw it as you lined the camera lens up with her, ceasing an opportunity that was too good to pass up. She smiled to herself and her gaze met the sky as she made her way to you. You snapped the shot. Candid photos were always beautiful, as they captured the essence of a person. You laid your camera carefully back in your bag, listening to the whirring of the printing photo. Larissa sat next to you, still smiling wide as she gestured to the sky. "Isn't it beautiful, darling?" You looked up at the array of colors, before lowering your gaze to your bag. You chuckled to yourself, debating on letting your thoughts run with the breeze and carry themselves to her ears, 'It's not as beautiful as you.' Alas, you refrained and your gaze met hers warmly. "It really is Larissa, it's so beautiful."

After the 16th hole, you loaded your clubs into the cart and settled in the passenger seat again. You had a few drinks while on the course, which may have affected your performance, but not too much. You were caught off guard as Larissa stepped on the gas, giggling, as she thought it would be hilarious to leave Tom and Glen in the dust. You squealed as you fell gently into the woman, and quickly grabbed the handle to pull yourself away. She raced down the dirt path to the next hole, and you watched as the sunscreen fall out of the cart and onto the ground. "Shit Rissa, the sunscreen!" you hollered. The older woman slammed on the breaks, the cart drifting in the dirt and gravel. You jumped out and retrieved the sunscreen, laughing hysterically. "Geeze, you gotta be somewhere?!" you said, eliciting a cackle from Larissa as she drove down the path. When you stopped, she leaned closer to you and took your hand in hers again. Her plump lips curled up into a cute smile as brown eyes met blue, and you blushed. "You're very fun to be around, Prudence. Thank you for coming out today" she whispered. Your blush deepened as you looked down at your intertwined hands and squeezed hers reassuringly, "It's my pleasure. You're a delight, Larissa."

Glen ended up winning this round, with Larissa in second and you in third. Tom, being the loser, offered to buy the drinks. As you all sat, worn out from the day, a man appeared at your table, "What can I get you all?" He looked younger than Larissa, yet older than you. You noticed that he was paying an unusual amount of interest towards the woman. He talked enthusiastically, and you watched him as he took the old men's orders of beer, your order of a rum and coke, and Larissa's order of red wine. He took Larissa's order last, looking her up and down with a smirk. He then opened his mouth, to your dismay. "I saw you playing today Larissa, not your best day huh? Maybe it's because you're not wearing your blue skirt. That one shows you off nicely" he winked. Before you, or anyone else could say anything, the man walked away. Larissa let out a groan in annoyance and placed her head in her hands. "What the hell is his problem!?" you asked, frustrated and confused. Larissa sighed and turned to you, about to respond, when Glen spoke up. "He's a cocky young thing. He works and plays here. When Larissa first started playing, he challenged her."

"He challenged her, and Rissa beat him! Now he's sour about it" Tom added, rolling his eyes. Larissa leaned in closer to the men and whispered in disgust, "He never leaves me alone. I always see him eyeing me, little pervert."

"He'll get what's coming to him" Tom replied confidently, taking a drink of his beer.

After a drink and some much appreciated golf advice from Glen and Tom, another man made his way to your table and stopped next to Larissa. "Red wine, a fine choice" he said, flashing her a toothy smile. Larissa smiled back and nodded, "Yes, it's my go to." The man looked around the table at the older men, then at you. "May I buy you another?" he asked, gesturing to her drink. Your eyes narrowed at him, how arrogant, it seemed that he had deemed her available to flirt with. Tom laughed and shook his head, "You're barking up the wrong tree pal." Larissa glared at Tom with an expression that said 'shut up.' She then looked up at the man and waved her hand dismissively, "Thank you, but I'm fine." The man replied while eyeing Larissa up and down. "Are you sure? I saw you golfing today, and I'm pretty impressed." Larissa chuckled but shook her head no, about to politely decline again, when you spoke up. You furrowed your eyebrows at the man and placed your hand on Larissa's, "She said she's fine." The man's eyes widened in surprise as they shot to you. He then nodded and headed back to his table. Larissa gazed down at you and chuckled in amusement and surprise, squeezing your hand lightly. She hoped you couldn't read it on her face, but she thought it was precious, how you defended her. "Someone has a crush" Glen spoke, picking up his beer and taking a sip. Larissa smiled, "I'm sure he just wanted to talk about golf." Glen raised his eyebrows as he looked at you, "I'm not talking about him."

Larissa gave him a questioning look before letting go of your hand, "I'll be right back." As soon as Larissa entered the building and was out of sight, the men turned to you. "So, what are your intentions with our friend here?" Tom asked. You tilted your head in confusion, "What do you mean?" "Do you like her?" Glen chimed in. You raised a brow, "Well yeah, I like her. Why wouldn't I?" Tom and Glen smirked at each other before chuckling at your obliviousness. "No, are you interested in her? Do you like women?" Your mouth dropped open as you blushed lightly. You knew the answer to that question, but why did they care? You shrugged, "No, no. I mean maybe, yeah."

Larissa was making her way back from the washroom when caught your conversation. She stopped at the door and discreetly listened in. "Well, she likes women, and she's single" Glen replied, hinting. Larissa's mouth opened in disbelief, they were just casually outing her to you? Okay then. "You know she's 49, right?" Tom laughed. Larissa's mouth dropped further, they weren't ones to talk about age. You chuckled and shook your head at the men, now eager to speak the truth. "I don't care if she's 49, she's fucking lovely." Glen and Tom erupted into laughter at your response, but inside, a toothy smile lit up the older woman's face. Larissa's heart swelled in her chest at your words, you innocent thing you. She returned to the table and settled down next to you, scooting her chair closer to yours. Her eyes crinkled as she smiled down at you, and when you returned a side smirk, she gave you a knowing wink.

☼☼☼

Part 2

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#larissa weems #gwendoline christie #principal larissa weems #wednesday netflix #lesbian #gwendolineuniverse #principal weems #larissa weems fanfic #larissa x reader #larissa weems x reader #Youtube #golf larissa weems

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will80sbyers · 2 years

Text

Byler theory, Mike’s point of view through the seasons

SEASON THREE

We start the season with El and Mike that are dating, Hopper is annoyed because they are always making out in her room, Mike is always around and they show them when they joke around a bit, Mike is having fun singing a song but El doesn’t really like it, she likes to kiss Mike more…

puberty has taken over lol

Hopper sees that they are making out and he doesn’t like that, El catches him and closes the door with her powers… Jim opens the door and Mike and El are pretending to be doing something else…. Mike says ‘’What’s wrong?’’ to Hopper like the little bisexual piece of shit he is (I love him)

Mike has to go…. He has a date to the cinema with Will (and Lucas and Max too)

him and Eleven talk on the radio while he is on the road there… they exchange only a few words, not very deep but they wish they were still together probably to kiss again… eh…

Mike arrives to the cinema at the Mall and he is late, the others are there… Lucas tells Mike that he and El never hang out with them and only make out all the time… Will thinks it’s funny how Lucas is making fun of Mike for that (William Byers is the funniest person on earth, I love him)

Mike thinks that he is spending romantic time with his girlfriend and it’s normal… Lucas point out how him and Max are together and they go out with their friends more than El and Mike and still have romantic time together like that…

They are now in the cinema and sit like couples because the Duffer brothers are two evil, evil men…

The power goes off and Will feels Vecna again… Mike notices this and asks him if he is okay.... puberty has started, Will is in love with Mike and he is noticing Mike too in a romantic way… Mike? Who knows.. maybe he had some strange thoughts too but we are not shown his perspective about it here, we know he STILL pays attention to Will and he is still asking him how he feels… Will says he is okay and they keep watching the movie.

Jim goes to Joyce to talk shit about Mike, he wants El and Mike to break up because they are together all the time, constant kissing, he says it’s not normal or healthy… and maybe yeah... they love to kiss a lot because…. they have nothing to talk about really? For El it’s difficult to make long speeches… Mike probably talks but he often feels like he is ashamed of being himself in front of her like we see in the finale at least… he wants to always look cool to her

Dustin is back from camp! They organize a welcome home party for him and they all hide while El uses her powers to surprise him… Mike is framed between Will and El as always… but Mike and El are extremely touchy with each other, they hold hands constantly and she is always attached to him!

Mike is still framed between her and Will lol

Dustin tells them that he has a girlfriend now, Mike asks if she is cute? and they go to the hill to install the antenna for cerebro… Mike and El hold hands still instead of helping the other carry the stuff ( btw how rude is that )

They whisper stuff to each other??? idk that’s just weird to me lol

The others are talking…

Dustin says ‘’ like star-crossed lovers….’’ Aka destined to fail AND MIKE ONE SECOND LATER SCREAMS ‘’HEY GUYS…’’ …………….. lol this was funny Duffers

Mike and El lie to the others and go home to make out again probably, the others point out how it’s all summer that they are acting like that, Will thinks it’s gross because he is jealous and gay, Dustin says it’s bullshit.. Mike is treating the party badly, he didn’t see Dustin for a long time and leaves early anyway…

Will feels Vecna again but doesn’t tell anyone…

is he distancing himself a bit from Mike since he started dating Eleven? He is not talking about his problems with him because Mike is completely focused on Eleven in an unhealthy way… puberty

We are at the cabin again, Mike and El are making out AGAIN… Jim is almost having a stroke in the other room because, like us, he hates knowing that it’s happening….

Can’t stop this feeling plays in the background…

Jim wants to talk to them, Mike is being disrespectful as always and he whispers something in El’s ear again making fun of Hopper, Jim is pissed off and tells him that his mother called about his grandma.... he makes Mike leave and when they are in the car he tells Mike what all of us were thinking:

There is something wrong about their relationship!

Mike is angry now because…. Hopper lied! Mike doesn’t like being lied to!

Hopper scares Mike and tells him that he will talk to him and maybe if he is lucky he can continue dating El after he’s done with him….

The others are still on the hill, Dustin can’t reach Suzie and Lucas, Max and Will have to go home

Will tells Dustin that maybe they can do something fun tomorrow, maybe play d&d again… he wants to bring the party together again

It’s the morning after, El was expecting Mike to be at the cabin but he didn’t show up, she calls him and he is visibly nervous, Hopper’s talk scared him… and he… decides to lie to her about it, he hates people that lie to him but he lies to El.

El doesn’t believe him…. He keeps lying and says to her ‘’Friends don’t lie’’ and that he misses her but it’s all very fake tbh… El is angry and closes the door of her room with her powers…

El decides to go to Max to ask for her help and they talk about it: Boyfriends lie, all the time!

Mike is at his home with Lucas and Will… he is panicking because he knows that El knows that he’s lying…. He asks Lucas for help, Will couldn’t care less about it and just wants to play d&d again..

Mike does care about El and he does like making out with her… and Hopper is threatening to stop them completely… and yeah, maybe they don’t talk a lot when they are together and they can’t really go out on dates…but he likes kissing her, it’s nice!

El and Max go to the mall… Max tells El ‘’there’s more to life than stupid boys’’ starting her path to independence!

Mike, Lucas and Will go to the mall too because Lucas thinks Mike needs to buy a present to make El forgive him… it seems just communicating honestly is not an option? lol

Anyway… Mike wants to buy her a teddy bear because she likes them but he doesn’t have the money… they look at perfumes after, nothing specific!

They finally meet with the girls, Mike is angry at El because she’s not allowed to go out like this…

El asks him why is he treating her like shit, he keeps lying to her and she does it, she dumps his ass!!!!

(YOU GO GIRL! DO IT AGAIN IN SEASON 5 PLEASE!)

Anywayyyy…. Mike makes a weird expression, he seems offended at first then the shock settles in and we see he's a bit sad as she leaves on the bus... but Mike knows he deserved it.

Will is about to burst out laughing in the background lol

Max and El are at the cabin now, they talk more than she and Mike did in three seasons……………………………………………….

Max asks her if Mike is a good kisser, they kiss all the time but El doesn’t know if she likes how Mike kisses because he’s her first boyfriend? Uhm… shouldn’t you like it if you’re doing it that much? Lol

El spies on the guys and Mike is… avoiding responsibility for lying.

He says that he doesn’t know what he did wrong but he knows, Mike is not stupid… He doesn’t really care about resolving the problem between him and El as soon as possible, it’s too much work and Hopper is scary and he is having fun with his friends again, talking about his problems, he didn’t spend much time with them when he was with El and he missed them! He does like El but…

(There is Ted Wheeler with a yellow and blue raincoat in front of Mike’s house….)

and Will wants to play d&d!

Will wants attention now, he is tired of all of this mess and he starts a little theatrical scene, he dresses up as a wizard and bosses Mike around:

address me by my full name!

Will the wise is here and we love him!

Mike and Lucas are tired because it’s early morning, they don’t really want to play but let themselves be convinced… they are playing now, Will is into it but the other boys are not, the phone rings, Mike thinks it’s...

‘’El?’’

‘’No, not interested!’'

it’s telemarketers....

(INTERESTING SCENE lmao)

Mike doesn’t want to play anymore so he finishes the game in a hurry making fun of it and that’s when it happens..

Will had enough of this!

Will lashes out at Mike and he is about to leave… NOW Mike is worried, he tries to make Will stay and keep playing but Will is doneeeee! Bye, bitch!!!

Mike is worried af and he goes after his best friend… he feels bad because he knows he is being an asshole..

He apologizes immediately to Will, but he tells him they are not in the mood to play and Will explodes… we know how the scene goes, we know about the eyewitness parallel… and Mike suddenly says it

‘’It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!’’

Now this scene is a byler hint

in my opinion Mike here didn’t mean to talk about the fact that Will has been called gay all his life but he meant

"It's not my fault you don't like girls... yet"

Mike does have an interest in girls, he likes kissing them and likes kissing El… maybe he has thoughts about boys too, we don’t know yet, he has been called gay slurs too by the bullies so maybe finding out that he does like kissing El was a good thing for him because he could do that all the time and forget about the other part of him that has an interest in guys too…? Will is not interested in girls or relationships and Mike doesn’t know why yet so he says that… but he then realized how it sounded, he feels like shit because he just hurt Will deeply and he knows it… and he tries to explain that they are not kids anymore and he wants to focus on growing up because that’s what they must do, right? That’s what’s normal and what Lucas wants to do too… he would love to play d&d but… Mike feels like it’s time to grow up because society is telling him that’s what he should be doing… (in the scene right after this we are in the pool and a ball with RED, YELLOW AND WHITE colors is floating in it………………………)

/ ISTG... IF COLOR THEORY DOESN’T MEAN ANYTHING IT'S THE WEIRDEST COINCIDENCE /

Mike feels like shit... he needs to find Will immediately and apologize to him again, Lucas and Mike take the bikes and go to Will’s house even if it’s raining, Mike is ready to take full responsibility about the fight because Will is Will and he can’t live with Will being angry at him.

Will is at castle byers, he calls himself stupid for liking Mike and still wanting to be young and play with his friends and he destroys the picture of them and he destroys castle byers because he is angry at himself and at how unfair everything is… he knows he is gay, he knows he can’t just ignore his feelings for boys like Mike can and he thinks he will never have a relationship like the one that Mike has because of this… he also hates that he feels like this for Mike and Mike doesn’t even care!

Castle Byers is gone, his childhood is gone… Will feels Vecna/ the mindflayer again and this time he doesn’t want to ignore it anymore, he faces it.

Mike and Lucas finally find him there, Mike ask if he is okay… and Will tells them: ‘’He’s back’’

They really need El right now so Mike calls the girls and they all go to Mike’s to talk, Will explains everything… they go to the pool to spy on Billy

Mike, Lucas and Will go into the place with the sauna, it’s funny how the only one that makes a comment about throwing up after the sauna scene is Lucas lol

but not that important tbh

Anyway they have a plan now..

Lucas apologizes to Will

Mike admits to El that he was lying to her but he says that Hopper ‘’made him’’ lie…. He doesn’t take responsibility for his actions and doesn’t say he is sorry… he says to her that she’s the most important thing in the world for him but…. Boyfriends lie all the time! And El has had enough of his bullshit anyway… she says that maybe Hopper is right, she tells Mike that she basically knows that he said that girls and boys are two different species, he is annoyed that she spied on him.. she leaves him behind LOL

They fight with Vecna/Billy and Mike protects everyone as much as he can, he tells Max to get away from the door because he trusts and understands immediately what Will tells him (they keep being framed together in every occasion) and he hits Billy when he is hurting El… the fight is over and they go….

They are back at Mike’s house… El searches for Hopper and Joyce… Mike thinks that Max and El are conspiring against him because he doesn’t understand girls really… Will reminds him that they are over and Mike says they are just on a break… Jonathan and Nancy arrive on the scene they all talk and they go to Heather’s home, Mike is again paired with Will and they sit on the back of the car together

When El and Mike are not together, they pair Mike with Will... All. The. Time.

They are now at the hospital. El makes the vending machine work and Lucas tells Mike that that was a peace offering, he doesn’t get it, Lucas says to him that he’s hopeless (HE DOES NOT GET FEELINGS AND ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS. HE IS DUMB. ) and he should go and talk to El… he offers her m&m’s…. and says he likes the new look because it’s cool… he doesn’t apologize at all… they don’t show them talking and the next scene they are reading the plastic wrap of the m&ms ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????what

Anyway, the monster is there, Will can feel it and Mike looks at him when he says that… El fights it and kills it!

They go back to the cabin, El is looking for Billy and Mike is worried for her because she is spending too much time doing the thing that makes her weak, he does care about her a lot, he doesn’t want her to get brain damage from it… he has a fight with Max about it, Mike says he just wants to protect El, Max says he is controlling with her and he doesn’t trusts her to make her decisions and have her own limits… He says that she is risking her life for no reason, the others tell him that’s not true and

Nancy says: ‘’ El is not stupid, she knows her abilities better than any of us and she is her own person, with her own free will’’

Mike makes this face:

Max says it as it is.. El has saved the world twice and Mike still doesn’t trust her!

Mike deflects this accusation by saying that she shouldn’t talk about trust because for Mike, MAX made Eleven spy on them… even if we know, and Max says it, it was El’s idea lol

Mike doesn’t completely trust Eleven and he is placing her on a pedestal at the same time, thinking she is great and other people can corrupt her because he thinks she doesn’t even make her own decisions at this point of the narrative... and at the same time she needs him to act almost like a parent keeping her safe and guiding her because she's inexperienced in some things...

He says a good thing though: El is not a machine and he doesn’t want her to die, he doesn’t want to feel the grief he felt when he thought she was dead in s2, he says he loves her and doesn’t want to lose her again and I do believe him!

He does love her, he cares for her, he likes her and wants to protect her and keep her alive! But…. he is not in love with her.

He doesn’t understand what being in love is... yet, he never really felt it, he doesn’t show it, he didn’t show it to Eleven because he doesn’t really know her enough to be IN love with her.

He loves her, he is not in love.

But, he said that out loud… with everyone there, that’s so freaking embarrassing, and he doesn't know this but he didn’t mean it in a truly romantic way... but he can’t explain that to people because he doesn’t even realize it himself so he thinks he must mean it in that way… it’s awkward… did she hear that? he just goes on avoidance mode and when she asks what’s happening he says nothing.

Then we have the first genuine scene between them. Mike still tries to make El change her mind and avoid risking herself, El asks him to trust her… he says ‘’yeah, be careful’’ after Max gives him a ‘’try it, bitch’’ look lmao and he sits down but he doesn’t really seem to come to that decision on his own, he still has problems trusting her…

Billy scares her in her mind vision and when she gets back Mike is there to comfort her… the monster attacks and El is injured, they all save her, and she saves them splitting it in two! They escape and go to the grocery store…

Mike and El are alone now, and Mike finally apologizes to her, tells her he was jealous of Max but he isn’t anymore and he is happy that they are friends… and he wanted to tell her something, he says he never felt like this before and he… says that "they do say it makes you crazy" … she’s confused… what? He says… it’s like a feeling… something that old people say to each other…. (HE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT THAT FEELING IS. If he truly had felt it, he would have just told her, he thinks he does love her like that but he can’t say it… he can’t even write it down, he doesn’t know what he is talking about)

He tries…. But they get interrupted again by Dustin on the radio!

Things happen... they reunite with the adults, El discovers that she is losing her powers because she tries to destroy a coke can and she can’t… Everything happens, Hopper ‘’dies’’ but they won… They save the world!

3 MONTHS LATER

El is living with Will and the Byers are moving, and we have Mike and Will talking about the d&d game… Will says that he will use Mike’s manual when he comes back, if Mike still wants to play, if Mike doesn’t think he is too grown up to play…

Mike says yes but, what if Will wants to join another party? And he is thinking, did I lose Will? Does Will forgive me for that awful fight we had? He is leaving… I am afraid that I’m going to lose him again… but Will is clear ‘’ Not possible.’’ I still love you, I still want you in my life, I still want to play together… and Mike just smiles.. they get it, they don’t even have to ‘’say it’’ … they understand.

Eleven lost her powers, we see her struggle with this fact and with Hopper’s death… Mike arrives in the room and helps her take the bear from the closet, he tells her that her powers will come back to her, he does still think about her like a superhero now because she did save the world again, she’s great!

And they talk about visiting each other, Mike wants her and Will to come to Hawkins for Christmas day so that they can play with the new presents they get… it’s like Mike now wants to go back, he doesn’t want to grow up as fast as he wanted to before… Eleven brings out the love argument, Mike still can’t say it, he fakes not remembering that he even tried to talk about his feelings… he is confused and doesn’t understand what is wrong with him or why he can’t just say it…. She makes the first move, she tells him ‘’ I love you, too’’ but…

he stays still, eyes open? Open closet in the background?

he is thinking ‘’ What the hell just happened? Why did I not feel it right now? What? ‘’ He is confused.

They are leaving... Hopper’s voiceover plays in the background and we have another hint towards Byler:

they edit the scenes to reference the relationship between Will and Mike, they put a scene where Mike looks at the Byers home while in the background we hear

‘’ lately I’ve been feeling distant from you, like you’re pulling away from me or something. I miss playing board games every night, ’’ (EL JUST TOLD HIM HE LOVED HIM WHY WOULD THIS BE ABOUT MIKE AND EL? IT’S NOT. Who likes to play board games aka d&d? Mike and Will)

The scenes switch between the characters and the voiceover describes how they are feeling...

it's exactly what Mike and Will are feeling.

Mike is feeling like he is losing his favorite person in the world, Will, he never lived without Will by his side, he did everything he could to save him and have him back in season one but now Will is going away… forever?

he will miss El too, of course, but he just had the strangest thing happen between them because she told him she loves him but he… didn’t really feel that.

he thought he loved her... now he's unsure?

He's not completely aware of this yet(we are thanks to how they filmed it) , he's mostly shocked by her telling him the I love you randomly and finding out that he just couldn’t tell her in that moment because the feeling was not there and he froze... he felt weird, it felt weird kissing her again like that, he was used to not kiss her after the break up… he doesn’t know what to think, he feels too weird now, he needs to talk to someone that understands him.. someone… like Will?

But Will is moving away from him so… he goes home to the only other person he can talk to.. his mom.

*heroes plays in the background*

He needs his mom… and we have a clear parallel of the time in s1 when he thought Will was dead, they hug and we focus on his confused face… what is happening? Why does he feel like he needs Will more than El?

And then Hopper talks about how life is moving and changing whether you like it or not

AND WE HAVE A SHOT OF ELEVEN IN THE CAR….

Hopper says, sometimes life is painful and sad and we see Max mourning Billy,

sometimes life is surprising, happy AND we see Erica’s door with a rainbow drawing on it and Dustin and Lucas give Erica Will’s manual of d&d!

Will is going to be surprised and happy!

SEASON FOUR

#byler #will byers #mike wheeler #byler theory season 3 #byler theory

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missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway · 1 month

Text

I really do, believe in you...

Wordcount: 2,860

Thor x POC Singer!Reader “Honey” x Bucky. Thor x POC Singer!Reader “Honey” x Bucky x Steve.

Summary:

Let’s see if you believe in me. The Avengers Holiday party. You are both a guest and part of the musical entertainment. Will you end up on the naughty or nice list?

Warnings:

Smut, Teasing, Dom Steve Rogers, Christmas Party, Office Sex, Polyamory, Steve Rogers is a Tease, Possessive Behavior, Not Sharon Carter Friendly, Domestic Avengers, Petty Reader, Dancing and Singing, Protective Bucky Barnes, Thor is just enjoying his mead

Notes:

Just a fun little snapshot for the holiday season! This one is very Steve heavy, but that's just where these characters took me. Have no fear though, the next full installment is VERY Thor-centric and Bucky will have his own installment to shine as well. Happy Reading Heathens! *I will have a set list of the songs used at the end. As well as links to the songs throughout the story. Please give these artists a listen!

Banner by @cafekitsune Divider by @firefly-graphics

You spot them as they enter the main ballroom. Your three strapping men, color coordinated and cutting intimidating frames in their suit choices. Thank the goddess you had a good hold on the mic as you waited for your cue to join Sy in singing White Christmas, or you might have literally swooned in front of this mass of party goers.

You start your verse as you watch them make their way over to the bar where the team, plus one Sharon Carter, have gathered. Thankfully tonight’s event is Jane Foster free, so it should be a good night with you, Sy and the Chanti’s house band entertaining Tony’s rich friends and employees before enjoying some much needed time with your men.

You can't help but feel festive in your short red dress, studded red fishnets and nude pumps. You’ve kept your makeup simple with a nude lip and a smokey eye. Your hair down and in its natural state. Sy made a comment when picking you up that you looked like Santa’s little Siren. Seems appropriate if you do say so yourself.

Per usual you notice Sharon being a bit too chummy with your Captain. The woman just can’t help herself. You know all about the “kiss” when they were trying to save your beloved Bucky. But according to Steve the reason it never went further was because there was no spark when their lips touched. And he tried giving her a chance, chalking the lack of spark up to the stress of the situation, but she was way too into his status and power. So he ended things before it made it any further than a couple dates and a subpar makeout session.

What is it with these prude ass women that hang around these strong ass people? Sharon, like Jane, thinks your quad is ridiculous and you don't need that many men. Especially when you added Steve in.

“He should be upholding traditional values as he’s America's golden boy. Not flaunting such an alternative lifestyle. Hell if he was gay it would be easier than this bullshit. Why on Earth would you want to willingly share a woman with two other men. Not to mention one of those men is a God and the other a murderer.”

Let's not forget what she also stated in that little rant of hers, when she was unaware you could hear her perfectly clear from your spot in the common room. “I just don’t understand what he sees in her. Who stays in a band with someone they used to be fuck buddies with? It’s just tacky and sad. A man that powerful should be with someone who is only devoted to him and can boost his image, not damage it. ”

I’ll show her tacky. Lord knows I'm certainly not above being petty. I’ve been behaving for far too long. Time to put these Siren skills to use. What good are they to have if you can’t fuck with uppity bitches using them.

You wrap the song with Sy and address the room. “Once again I’m Honey, he’s Sy and they are the Chanticleers house band. I hope you’ve enjoyed your evening so far. We plan on keeping things fun, flirty and just a tad bit naughty. Might even make ya feel some things tonight. Requests are accepted but are subject to refusal. For this next one I’m going to need a certain Widow and White Wolf to report to the dance floor to really get this crowd moving and grooving.”

They exchange a look with each other, shrug and make their way over to the now cleared dance floor. A tango melody begins, which sounds remarkably like Billie Eilish's Bad Guy . As your sultry voice fills the space, your eyes feast upon the natural elegance of Bucky leading Nat across the floor. It’s turning you on, if you’re being honest with yourself. Two people you know very intimately, pressed close together, seducing the crowd with their bodies, is panty dampening. If you were wearing any that is.

As Bucky dips Nat for the last time, he tosses you a wink as he swings her out and they both take a bow.

“Now that the temperature has certainly risen, let's get those hips moving. We are a big band after all, let’s give ya a taste of what we do three nights a week at Chanti’s.” Sy starts tickling the ivory, leading the band in a 1920s cover of Levitating. You shimmy and sway your hips to the beat as people fill the dance floor once again.

The whole team is cutting a rug, trying to get tips from Bucky and Steve on how to dance best with a partner to this upbeat rhythm. It truly is such a sweet sight to see. Even Sharon, trying to use this to her advantage isn’t phasing you. He entertains her for a few measures as she tries desperately to keep up with his footwork. He eventually pawns her off on an agent nearby and makes his way to the side of the stage.

Just before the music break he sneaks up and grabs your hand, spinning you into him as you finish the chorus. A ‘woo’ escaping you as you collide with his chest. He leads you in a simple swing as the band plays on, placing you back in front of the mic with a kiss to the jaw and a squeeze of the hips just in time for you to get back to serenading the crowd.

Smooth asshole. I’ll be getting you back for that one, Sir.

“Should we keep this high energy up?” The crowd responds with ‘yes’ accompanied by hoots and hollers. “Requests are open if anyone has a suggestion.”

From the middle of the dance floor you hear Sam shout “I2I. I’m trying to get my goof troop on.”

You can't help but crack up at his antics, trying to pull one over on you. “Fortunately for you Samuel, we are well versed in the magic that is Tevin Campbell. But since you think you're so funny why don’t you come show these people your best Max moves and maybe you just might find yourself a Roxanne.”

Sy’s fingers produce the familiar synth beat from the electric guitar in his large hands, before the band joins in and brings this funky jam of your childhood to life. You have fun with it, goofing around with your back up singers and really livening the place up. You truly do shine when you are on a stage.

“Steve, why are you over here? Come back out on the dance floor with us.” Sharon whines.

“I’m content here with my drink currently. I’m admiring the view too much.” His eyes haven't moved from your body the whole song. Not even to address Sharon.

“Don’t you want to continue to have fun?”

“I’m having plenty of fun, trust me.” He taps his head, a devious smile crossing his face, as filthy thoughts of you fill his mind.

Just as she is about to open her mouth in response, the song ends and the dance floor bursts out in applause.

“Hot damn was that fun!” You shout out, catching your breath. “I think we all deserve a cool down after that.”

The crowd agrees with head nods and murmurs of yes. “Sy would you be so kind as to set up a chair for Steven to come join us on stage?”

You wink at him as you curl your fingers in a come hither motion to get him moving. He places his drink down and like a sailor following a Sirens song into the sea, travels across the parting dance floor, keeping eye contact with you, until he sits in the chair provided for him in the middle of the stage.

You reach over and pluck the Santa hat covering the extra mic stand. You turn toward the soldier sitting proudly in the chair behind and to the right of you. You take two steps and bend over, placing the festive red hat on his head with a kiss to his bearded cheek.

“Now that we have our Santa, I have a few things I’d like to ask for.” The band starts to play Santa Baby to the crowds whoops and applause.

You give the room your full attention at first. Pouty lips, swaying hips, coquettish smiles as your fingers play with the mic stand. Steve’s eyes are glued to your backside the entire time, pants growing uncomfortable.

You grab the mic and begin to move about the stage as you sing about all the fellas you haven't kissed, with a wink to Thor and Bucky for good measure. Hips moving to the beat as you parade around the stage, dutifully ignoring your Captain. That is until you place yourself on his thighs asking him to come and trim your Christmas tree.

You words and attention are only for him. The sexual tension you two have been playing with all night is beginning to leak out. The want in your voice as you ask one final time for him to ‘Hurry, tonight.”, is his breaking point. Especially as you slip off his lap and immediately address the crowd.

“Let’s give a round of applause to our wonderful Santa everybody.” The inebriated crowd hoops and hollers, as Steve, having discreetly adjusted himself, stands and takes a bow. As he passes you by, he places a hand low on your hip, giving it a squeeze. All while laying a kiss behind your ear with a low growl and a whispered command of “My office in 5.”

A shiver runs down your spin as he makes his way off stage. Eyes tracking him as he stops to talk to Thor and Bucky. Both men turn to you up on stage, Thor raises his glass with a wink and smug smile, while Bucky mouths ‘Naughty girl.”

“Looks like it’s time for this Songstress to call it a night.” Someone boos in the crowd. “Have no fear, the night is far from over. The house band is more than capable of keeping the party going. You’ll forget about little ole me in no time. For now I bid you adieu. May your night continue on with laughter and joy.”

You give a bow as Sy walks up to the mic. You give his bicep a squeeze and whisper “Knock em dead.” before exiting the stage.

You’re spread out on Steve’s desk, dress hiked up around your waist and the crotch of your fishnets ripped open, back arched as the golden Adonis between your thighs wrenches another orgasm from you with his tongue.

“Just had to tease me, doll.” He plunges two fingers, knuckles deep into your dripping folds. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the little game you were playing with Sharon.”

He crooks his fingers just so, playing with your sweet spongy spot, making you whimper out. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“I know you couldn’t. My naughty naughty girl.” He removes his fingers, leaving you feeling empty. You start to whine until you notice him unbuckling his slacks and pulling out his thick cock.

Your mouth begins to water as you lean forward, licking your lips, wanting a taste. He grabs your throat, pulling your head up. “Uh, uh dollface. As much as I want those pouty lips wrapped around my cock I need to be inside you more. Gotta remind you I’m not going anywhere as my cum slowly leaks out of you the rest of the night.”

As you open your mouth to respond with some kind of sassy retort, he grips your thighs and pulls forward, impaling you to the hilt on his length. You both moan out simultaneously as you adjust to his girth for a moment. A moment is all he grants you.

With an intensity comparable to a feral Bucky, Steve sets a back breaking pace. His strokes are hard and deep, hitting all your sweet spots, turning your muscles to mush in his capable strong hands. He’s so lost in imprinting himself to your body that he doesn't hear the door to his office opening.

With half lidded eyes you watch as Sharon’s face emerges from the opening, jaw going slack with shock at the act of passion happening in front of her. As Steve grinds his pelvis into your clit after a particularly deep thrust, you lock eyes with the unsolicited blonde voyeur, letting every ounce of pleasure your feeling spring forth from your throat.

He growls out, nipping your neck, still unaware of your visitor. “Fuck babygirl. Squeezing my dick so tight. I can feel you’re close. C’mon. Cum for me. Give your Captain everything so I can fill you up.”

You smirk at Sharon before gripping Steve’s hair and guiding his lips to yours. You ignore the pest still at the door and proceed to grind back against your Captain as you bite his lower lip. It does as you intended and he slams into you harder, desperate to have you coming all over his dick.

You stay lost in each other, as Sharon retreats, quietly shutting the door back. Paying no attention to her surroundings, she runs straight into Bucky.

“Find what you were looking for Sharon?” He asks. “I was trying to find you and let you know that I would get Steve as he would most likely be indisposed. But I guess I was too late. See something you weren't supposed to?”

She swallows and just nods her head.

“Serves you right.” He grits out. “I hope for your sake you’ve finally learned your lesson that Honey isn't going anywhere.” A cruel smile crosses his face. “Knowing you though, I doubt that it has. I’m going to enjoy watching her take you down as you continue to step out of line. Let’s see how long you last this time.”

“He’ll get sick of her soon enough and I’ll be here to give him what he truly needs. A powerful man needs a woman fully devoted to him and only him.” She spits out.

“Keep deluding yourself, agent. You just witnessed how devoted they are to each other.” He shakes his head. “Get the fuck out of here. You’re not worth the hell Honey would give me for ruining her time with her Captain to deal with you.”

She glares at him before walking off down the hall at a brisk pace.

Uncaring of being stealthy, Bucky opens the office door and enters. He is there but a minute, listening to you come undone, before Steve is losing himself inside of you as you cling to him like a koala. His dick instantly hardens wanting to come out and play.

“Is there something I can help you with Buck?” Steve pants out, unwilling to pull himself for your warmth.

“I was just popping in to let you know Tony is asking for you. It’s time for speeches or whatever.” He replies.

You run your fingers through Steve’s hair as his head lays on your chest. “You run into Sharon in the hall or was she long gone by the time you made it here?”

Steve pushes himself up. “Why would he run into Sharon?”

“Ah, so she didn’t go unnoticed afterall." Bucky chuckles. "I caught her trying to sneak back to the party. Literally ran right into me after she shut the door.”

“What’s going on?” Steve queries.

“Sharon came looking for you and found you ravaging me instead. I’m surprised you didn't hear the door open with your Super Soldier hearing.” You answer.

He starts to laugh. “Good. I hope she enjoyed the show.”

You slap him on the back. “Scoundrel. What am I going to do with you? How would the world respond, knowing that their golden boy can be such a pervy asshole?”

“As long as I’m your pervy asshole, I don’t care.” He kisses your collarbone.

“Alright Stevie.” Bucky speaks up. “Get yourself cleaned up before Tony comes looking for you himself. Sooner we get this done with, the sooner I can get my dick wet.” He winks at you.

“Selfish Beast.” You tease him as Steve pulls out, He scoops any of his spend that’s leaked out onto his fingers and pushes them back inside you making you moan out.

“I’m gonna enjoy knowing I'm slowly leaking out of you the rest of the night.” He makes you lick his fingers clean. “Let’s see how long it takes before more is added shall we.”

“You go on ahead.” Buck calmly states. “I’m contributing my claim now. Hope you don't mind me using your office.”

“Just don't do anything stupid while I’m gone.” Steve responds as he opens the door and heads out into the hall.

“How can I, when you’re taking all the stupid with you?” Bucky shouts back, before locking the door behind him and making his way over to your still spread thighs.

“You are not nearly ruined enough for me to allow you out of here.” He circles your throat with his flesh hand. “Let me rectify that.”

#poc reader #avengers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #thor x reader #thor smut #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #avengers au #avengers smut

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dethtale · 1 year

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@savagevillain asked: For one muse to give the other a lap dance or strip tease / cami ns.fw prompts that don’t sound like a bad p.orno

Camille has never really seen herself as attractive, or the type of girl who would do things for a man. She knows men had found her attractive, and how sometimes they would lean into her as they danced with her in a club, to a random song and she had felt pretty. It's nothing like this though, the burning feeling of his eyes on her, it's enough to make her heart quicken; to feel loved and desired in ways she thought were just fairytales. So when she starts to remove her clothes in his studio, she feels powerful.

Clothes falling to the sides of her frame. It's all the most common pieces of clothes one could have on, but under his gaze, they feel as expensive as silk, or the lingerie she had dared to wear under them, pieces revealing as the clothes leave her frame, her eyes never leaving his own. Bare legs feel the cold of the floor under it but the rest of her body feels hot, quickening breath as her arms fall to her back, unclipping the bra, while the other hand presses on her chest, teasing the removal as she dares speak. "I want you to paint me."

#savagevillain #−−− ꧁ memes : answered asks . ❨ all . ❩#they are now on the muse x artist category

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stranger224 · 5 months

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Berry Brothel-Eartha's Performance

I have to say I was pretty excited to watch Eartha’s performance. A few wall street types had bought an auction with her, meaning they had till the end of a song to convince her they were the one to go in the back room with her for a ride they would never forget. I've done a few myself and they can be quite fun. It can make you feel powerful to have all these guys eating out of your hand.

The room decorates itself to look like an office christmas party even spawning in a few NPCs to mill around and make small talk. Eartha pretends to mingle sipping from a pink cocktail. The trio of Men I’ve nicknamed them Jordan, Gordon and Bob are also standing together chatting, probably making side bets with each other about the outcome, while they wait for Eartha’s song to start.

The music starts to play around the room. the three men look trying to figure out who the singer is, Eartha finishes her drink and saunters over to the men. she has added a pair of thick rim glasses to her sweater and beanie combined with her boyish frame she was giving off Jess Day vibes.

As the first verse of the song started she cuddled closer to Gordon, who seemed to be slightly older than the other two, with a well maintained white beard and a red suit. Giving him a cool santa vibe. Gordon seemed confused by the nerdy girl in front of him. Clearly he had expected someone that looked more traditionally like a stripper.

“Santa baby, slip a sable under the tree for me” Eartha sang or maybe she was just lip syncing. She pressed her back into Gordon’s shoulder with a little shimmy and a wink at the other two men

“Been an awful good girl” clasping her hands in front of Gordon Eartha dropped to her knees looking up at him she made her eyes wide and face as coquettish as possible.

Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight

Springing up to her feet she moved her attention to Jordan. pressing her hands to her hips, she rolled her hips seductively before spreading her legs and leaning over, and presenting her ass to the third man Bob. This move would have worked if her sweater wasn't so long that it covered her down to her knees. Bob for his part also seemed confused about why it looked like someone from accounting had gotten too drunk and was now trying to flirt despite having no assets to flaunt. Bob was dressed in a green velvet suit that didn't seem to fit him too well. Like he had grabbed the first thing that fit him. Maybe he got dragged to this place slightly against his will. Only Jordan was watching Eartha like a hawk looking for the smallest detail of changes; it was clear he had been the one to suggest coming to Brothel over an average strip club or call service. Jordan was wearing the least festive outfit of the trio. The only notable detail was the blue fleece vest that really screamed “I'm a venture capital bro” , still he was the one bringing in new clients to the brothel so I can't hate him too much.

When Eartha leaned over he saw the first sign of the changes to come; the hair sticking out of Eartha’s beanie was now a bleach bottle blond.

“Santa baby, an auto space convertible too, light blue”

Eartha moved to the center of the men, miming turning a steering wheel as she dipped her hips slightly rocking them like a bell.

I'll wait up for you, dear

Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight

Shifting her attention to Bob Eartha pressed herself to his chest pulling up his tie and giving it a twirl.

Think of all the fun I've missed

Leaning over Bob’s shoulder she pointed over at Jordan with come hither look before pushing off of both of them and strutting away, wagging her finger over her lips while singing “Think of all the fellas that I haven't kissed”

Next year I could be also good

If you'll check off my Christmas list

Still singing, Eartha reached up and pulled off the beanie, long blond hair fell down like a waterfall of silk, reaching all the way past the bottom of her dress. Both Gordon and Bob looked at her in shock, while Jordan’s smug face said closer to “What did I tell you?”

Santa honey, I want a yacht and really that's not a lot

Been an angel all year

Eartha began swishing her hips back and forth tickingling her hair as if it was a dance partner, turning sideways as she bent her leg, letting all that new hair tumble down before moving it back in place with a flip. On Eartha’s wrist a gold bracelets suddenly lit up blue Jordan had decided to make the first bid on the Christmas kitten

Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight

Eartha waltzes over to the current leader running her fingers through her long golden hair fluttering her eyelashes at him. Eyelashes that were rapidly darkening and thickening. as if Mascara was magically applied by an unseen hand. With a wink Eartha’s brown eyes turned baby blue.

Santa cutie, there's one thing I really do need, the deed

To a platinum mine

The bracelet on her wrist changes from blue to green as Bob ups the bid. Eartha

moves over to her new playmate. Dropping to her knees in front of him, her face is level with his dick. Looking up to him with her big blue eyes, she licks her lips slowly and seductively. As her tongue passes over them they take on a glossy pout pumping up to beautifully sculpted cock pillows. As Eartha sings the next line of the song I know she has to be lipsyncing, no one with lips that plump could talk without lisping let alone sing.

“Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight”

The Bracelet turns blue again as Jordan ups the bid. Making a kissy face at Bob Eartha slinks her body back up to standing. As she reaches her full height I notice she seems to be a bit taller, then I see that the converse she had been wearing have now changed into pink converse heels. As she clicks over to Jordan I notice that her sweater dress is slowly moving away from her knees.

Come and trim my Christmas tree

With some decorations bought at Tiffany

Eartha spreads her legs in front of Jordan, bouncing her hips in time to the beat. She places her hands on top of one another giving her ring finger a seductive wiggle. As she bounces I see that her breasts have a bit more bounce to them, a bit more jiggle. As they push away from her chest they are pulling the hem of her dress up higher exposing more of her legs and thigh in the process.

I really do believe in you

Let's see if you believe in me

Her bracelet changes back to green. Eartha repeats the same move she did before bending over to present her tits to Jordan, and her ass to Bob but now she really has something to shake. Her ass is growing, bubbling out thick and juicy, becoming heart shaped as her hips widen out. Her boobs are also still getting bigger, pumping up to J cups or bigger. The growth of her body has pulled her dress into a sweater showing off a pair of red panties with white trim with the word ‘naughty’ printed in festive gold script.

Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing, a ring

I don't mean on the phone

Bob goes to swat at Eartha’s ass, but she stands up and twists around to face him. An overemphasis pout on her face, as if she can't believe that he would be so crude. Still lip syncing, She puts her hand out to him tapping her ring finger again as the bracelet changes to blue.

Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight

Returning to Jordan Eartha pressed herself to his body making sure his cock was right up against her panties. She puts a hand on his hip, guiding him to move with her as her curves grow even more extreme. Her ass easily filled his lap, while his hands massaged her breasts that had to be M cups at least, but sat high and perky giving them an air of silicone implants. They were so large that the sweater that had started out as a dress now wasn't even covering her tiny waist.

“Hurry down the chimney tonight”. She sang the final lines of the song as the music slowed down. Jordan smiled sure that he had won the prize tonight. Then the light on Eartha’s bracelet turned a new color: Red

Jordan hurried to up his bid as Eartha pulled away from him, sauntering her bimbo body up to Gordon who was smirking proudly. As the song ended its final bar and Eartha escorted the her Santa baby to a private room, his hand on her ass with a last look over her shoulder to the other two men, she mouthed the last two words of the song with a wink

“Hurry, tonight”

The room went dark as Jordan and Bob were escorted out of the room and I made my way down for my performance

#bimbotransformation #bimbotf #santa baby

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xiuminscheeks · 6 months

Note

Biiiig paragraphs incoming cos im all caught up now!

So um. I fully didnt realise this was eunwoo until he sang in the wedding episode and i was like ok shoehorned in singing scene, this has to be an idol right? (In other words I should look at credits more often T.T) in my defense i only know like 2 astro songs lol

Also im adopting yul T.T hes so pure and helpful and all he wants is a pet dog someone pleaaaase get him a puppy...edit: holy fuck they make him deal with so much they make him pull like 3 all nighters, they rly brought him in as a fake bf... and then take him out as the third wheel xD hes so dramatic about it too acts like hes dying 10/10 oscar for the kid (nvm looked him up hes actually 2 years older than me thats not a kid skskks)

The bullying storyline made me SO nervous i fully thought shed succeed in ruining mr jins reputation (i cant handle storylines where people get unjustly framed for things it proper stresses me out skdjsk) or that something terrible was gonna happen to the poor student as a revenge from the bullies. but also seeing teachers actually care about students wellbeing over the reputation of the school is something that can be so 🥹 you love to see it

I rly loved the school trip episode!!! her coworker is still so set on trying to match her with mr lee skdjsk shes winning the wingman points but not the 'keeping up with the news' points (and also the cotton candy scene. What if i passed away. What if i straight up died. what then)

Oh and the cryptic new shaman girl? Shes def connected to mr lee right, cos shes got way too many mystic powers like he seems to have, what with his teleporting around to scare the bully. Oh and shes tryna break into his basement and all (and ofc yul gets roped into that too, he can never catch a break poor kid)

Edit; hes the MOUNTAIN SPIRIT RIGGGGGHT that explains the magic (i have to say i prefer him with long hair, men should have long hair more sksksk) super curious to see what his angle is since he cursed this family and is still keeping tabs on them but keeps implying mr jins gonna die or smth 😳

It was satisfying as fuck to watch him wreck the conspiracy theory streamer in one flick though, i was chanting KILL HIS ASS at the screen lmao

And YEAAAAAAAHGGHHH infinite fist pump!!! they finally confessed and kissed!!!!!! The way he instantly went for it too as soon as she said thr curse is over, you knooow hes been waiting for 3 months to do that,, wail theyre so sweet im holding them both gently theyre perfect for each other orz

Okay okay im done for now, youre free from the ask spam....but I didnt realise i was getting into an unfinished series when i started this so uh, i guess ill see you next week after the new episode airs xD

-🌱

your ask got me all excited again so I might rewatch the whole show before the new ep airs ajbfajflf

yea, Yul actor deserves an oscar, an emmy and even a grammy for his performance I WAS LITERALLY DYING

"i cant handle storylines where people get unjustly framed for things it proper stresses me out" SAME OMG I was so worried but thankfully the whole thing resolved during the same episode.

"hes been waiting for 3 months to do that" considering he fell in love with her the moment he first saw her, its WAY longer than that, which makes it even more precious (in episode 3 we saw a flashback of their first time meeting when Hae Na started working at the school, which was never clear if it was a while ago or just this year) check episode 3 33:27-34:54 (I speed watched the episode at work, I'm not that obsessed to know the exact timestamp, dont worry)

#im really happy you ended up likng and enjoying it #and cant wait for your new ask in a few days #next episode is gonna be FLUFFY #🌱 anon #long post

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mxchellesworld · 3 years

Text

swim

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings; smut, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, degradation, light choking, creampies, slight thigh riding

Synopsis; during a night out with your friends you spot a tall man in a dark suit with an even darker look in his eyes

a/n; this is literally just smut with very little plot lmaoo uhh i’ve been struggling in my smut writing/writing in general so here’s this, hope its not completely trash and you enjoy!

fic inspired by swim by chase atlantic, bc god knows i can't write anything original sdhfdh

***

It was 10 o’clock when your girlfriends rounded you up for a night out, hopefully full of sweet drinks and good company. By 11:30 you were happily buzzed and the feelings of warm bodies around you brought a heat to your lower stomach. Maybe tonight you’d go home with someone, wake up the next morning with that delicious sense of soreness between your legs. The only task at hand was finding a companion.

Once the current song ended you walked over to the bar grabbing a water and taking a seat next to your friends.

“How are the prospects lookin tonight y/n/n?” Jessica, the short brunette you’d known for years asked. Being around her had rubbed some of her boldness onto you. Hopefully that could make an appearance tonight.

“No luck so far,” you sighed “but my eyes are wide open.” You brought the straw to your lips, gulping down the cool water as you looked around the dimly lit room.

“Woah check out suit and tie over there. He’s been checking you out for a while,” chimed Erika. While she has happily taken, that didn’t stop her from going out with you guys and pushing you into random laps.

You looked up to see the darkest pair of brown eyes on yours. Maybe it was the lighting but here was something in them. Lust perhaps? His eyes travelled down your frame as you stood up. The tight lilac dress you had on hugging each of your curves perfectly.

"I'm gonna get some air, let me know if you guys wanna head out," you said never letting your eyes drift away from the handsome stranger a few feet away.

Once outside you let your back hit the brick wall. The music from the building could be felt vibrating through the cracks. You looked up seeing the stars barley visible through the city lights.

"Contrary to popular belief you can never see millions of stars, they simply aren't close and bright enough. On a really exceptional night, with no moon and far from any source of lights, a person with very good eyesight may be able to see 2000-2500 stars at any one time."

You turned to see the same man from inside. He was gorgeous, a light stubble grazing his cheeks, long hair falling past his ears. He was a lot taller than you had thought probably taller than 6'0 but all that made you think about was him towering over you.

"Did you make that up off the top of your head? Or do you approach all your conquests with astronomy facts?"

"That depends do you usually let strange men corner you behind bars or am I just special?" he said walking closer to where you stood.

"Touche Mr."

"Doctor actually."

There was a brief pause where you both let out a giggle. The dark eyes from before seemed lighter and you cold almost make out a blush on his cheeks. The lack of alcohol on his breath told you it was from the conversation, though there was nothing to be flushed about yet.

“But seriously a pretty girl walking out to a back alley late at night is just a recipe for disaster,” he finished scanning both ends.

“Well do you plan on hurting me doctor?" you said coyly. You did you best to flutter your lashes looking up at him.

"Is that what you want?" he said letting one of his hands tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. That same hand ended up resting loosely around you neck making you gulp.

"Yes," you breathed out, "please doctor."

He wasted no time in crashing his lips to yours. You moaned into his mouth as he slid his thigh in between your own. His unoccupied hand went down to your hip, slowly guiding the pace of your frantic rutting.

Your lips parted as your head tilted back onto the brick wall. A symphony of whimpers leaving your mouth.

"Look how desperate you are for me. I haven't even done anything and you're already such a mess," he said leaving wet kisses, cooling on your scorching neck.

"Oh fuck doctor," you said clinging onto his arms, "need y'to fuck."

The power he had over you turned your brain to mush. It was sad how quickly he had you melted in the palm of hand without even doing much but kissing. At this point you didn't even care. The only thought swimming in your head was having him inside you.

A pout formed on your lips as his hands dropped from your frame. However it was quickly wiped away as you heard the familiar sound of a belt unbuckling.

"Is this what you needed baby? You need my cock to stretch you out?" he said pulling your hips closer to his.

You looked up at him for permission before you reached forward to pump your hand along his shaft. He lifted your right leg, hooking it over his arm as he pulled the thin material separating the both of you to the side.

Guiding his length to your glistening folds was a sight you'd want engraved in your brain forever. The first intrusion of his fat tip in your tight hole had you mewling a mix of curses and his title.

All you could do was wrap your arms around his neck and hold on for dear life as his thrusts gained speed. The sound of your skin slapping luckily wouldn't have been heard through the door with the loud music playing inside. But anyone who walked by the alley or decided it was time for a breath of air would surly be in for a show.

"Fuck you're such a good little whore for me," he said gruffly against the skin of your shoulder, "letting me fuck you out here where anyone could see."

Your pussy clenched at his words and your moans amplified as he continued to pound into you. The curve of his cock hitting the spot inside of you that had you seeing all the stars in the sky contrary to what he said before.

"More doctor! Please wanna cum," you whined.

He made a noise of disapproval before pushing you back farther into the wall. At this point you and the red bricks were one. You were sure to have crescent marks on how hard he was holding up your thigh.

"Greedy little whore aren't you," he gritted out, "You take whatever I wanna give you."

"Please I need it! Need t'cum please please please," you rushed out bucking your hips to meet each one of his thrusts.

His hold on your hip got tighter as he started drilling into you. You could feel his heavy breathes on your shoulder and the way his cock was throbbing inside you ready to fill you up.

Your mind was dizzy. It felt like you were in a bubble of him, the scent of his cologne trapped in your senses. Your nerves were on fire, any pressure on your neglected bud would be sure to set you off.

It was as if the gods had answered your prayers when he spoke, "I can feel you clenching around me baby. Go ahead and touch yourself for me," he rasped out.

Reaching between yourself you felt the slippery mess where you both connected and started rubbing at your stiff clit. Your fingers sent lighting strikes through your body, breaking the damn that was building in your lower tummy.

"Gonna cum! I'm oh god cumming doctor," you all but yelled out. If people walking around the corner were unaware of the spectacle they sure would be now.

"That's it.. such a good girl."

Your arms around his neck let up as you pulled him in for a sloppy kiss. His lips swallowing the moans you let out as he helped you ride out your orgasm.

"Where do you want-," he tried to speak out but you cut him off.

"Inside," you begged, "Need to feel you cum inside." His thrusts turned frantic as you spoke against his lips. Pleading for hum to fill you to the brim with his seed.

You sighed as you finally felt the warm liquid coat your walls, his thrusts continuing to pump into you.

He pulled out stepping back to watch the creamy mess spill down your center before be swiped it away with his fingers, bringing them up to your awaiting mouth.

Happily you took his fingers in your mouth, moaning around them at the salty taste of your mixed release. You looked up at him keeping your gaze on the sliver of brown around his dilated pupils.

Walking back into the bar Jessica and Erika's eyes nearly popped out of their heads as they took in the limp in your walk and your disheveled hair.

"You whore!," Erika screamed out greeting you with pats on the shoulder.

"Shut up," you said looking down feeling the heat rising to your cheeks.

Jessica giggled handing you her compact mirror, "Yeah I bet we're not the only ones who called her that," she finished with a raise of her brow.

Looking back up across the bar you saw the same dark eyes from before staring at you with a smug smile, proud how much of mess he left you in. If the little business card tucked in your bra told you anything, it was that the stunt from outside would be far from the last.

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #mgg x reader #mgg smut #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler smut #spencer reid fanfiction #chellewrites

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taeescript · 3 years

Text

29 + 1 (Part Two)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: In which Seokjin is the Devil from The Devil Wears Prada, Taehyung is your work Jesus and Jimin is your handsome successful brother.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: seokjin x reader (squint harder than before for taehyung x reader)

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: slice of life; ceo!seokjin; a dash of enemies to lovers au

𝔴𝔠: 7.6k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: language; a plethora of drunk people, maybe a sext, and a ton of lying (possible implication of impending smut?!)

𝔞/𝔫: this part came out longer than i thought it would be but *shrugs* feedback and thoughts always welcomed. enjoy (: 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯: DailyHive is real; this is not associated with it

part one || part three

The bright pop music that is blaring from the speakers does little to slow your animated talking. Bodies are packed into the small local bar, and students on summer break fill booths and form a snake of impatient, drunk (and horny) people. A slow trickle of the brazen has started to fill the dance floor as the evening morphs into the night.

You whip your hair into a ponytail and dab at the sweat that is beading your forehead. You definitely should have worn that sleeveless top rather than this thicker t-shirt dress.

“So, is he like your sugar daddy or something?” Taehyung asks, “Also drink.”

Friday nights were usually spent at home, snuggled under the blankets in your pjs binging another rewatch of Friends. After work today, you could no longer hold onto your secret and invited Taehyung out for drinks. His girlfriend, Fei, was supposed to join but had been held back for overtime.

You tip the shot back with no chase.

“You’re a monster,” he comments as he bites into his lemon piece.

The two of you had made a bet at the beginning of the evening: you each chose a pop song and each time it played, the nominee had to take a shot. That was your fourth of the night, and to say there was a bit of a buzz is an understatement.

“It’s all throat technique, Tae,” you say with a bit of a slur, “Hit the back and swallow. No innuendo intended. Also, why the hell haven’t you had any to drink?”

“You picked ‘Peaches’ for fuck’s sake.”

“I told you I don’t listen to pop music. It was the first one playing.”

“And shouldn’t that have told you something? Justin Bieber of all people?”

“Shut up. It’s your song.” You nod at the pink-faced barista for another round. She slaps your order in front of the two of you without so much a glance.

You don’t even know what song is playing, but you feel quite satisfied watching Taehyung make a face as he downs it in one go.

He clears his throat after the liquor has burned its way down to his stomach. “Back to my question: is he your sugar daddy?”

You bark out a laugh. Was he? Perhaps the fact that he paid for fancy meals at lunch? Those have been his one o’clock meetings for the past two months.

“I don’t know. I’d rather he buy me a car or pay my rent if anything. A casual 1k a week wouldn’t be so bad either. We just sit in his office and eat in secret, Tae. He’s ‘training me in the art of culinary cuisine’. I think it’s just so I don’t embarrass him by stuffing a shrimp cocktail up my nose.”

“You do know – ”

“Yes, I know. And I would never. It’s a metaphor. It’s just that the position ‘intern’ is quite loosely defined at DailyHive, don’t you think?”

Taehyung rinses his mouth with water before speaking. “So let me get this right. Mr. Kim calls you into his office, says he’s going to take you as his guest to the biggest tech event of the year, treats you to lunches and doesn’t ask for anything in return? No secret midnight meetups or shady business deals…”

You shake your head.

“Damn,” Taehyung says, resting his arm on the bar table, “Forget sugar daddy. He’s just daddy.”

Sticking your tongue out, you gag visibly at his comment. “Do not ever call him that again, Tae; ev-er.”

He laughs and watches you pensively. After a moment’s thought, he says, “Nobody has ever called me Tae.”

“What do they call you then?” you reply, wrinkling your brows together. A cute brunette across the room catches your eyes and for the briefest of seconds, you wonder what a one-night-stand would feel like.

He shrugs. “Just Taehyung.”

The brunette waves in your direction. You are about to return his wave when an equally cute brunette runs up to him. He promptly kisses her before swivelling her around to join his group of friends.

“Sorry. Do you want me to stop? I just assumed since we were out of the office…”

Oh Fate, how cruel you are. Life of twenty cats and solidarity, here you come. Maybe dogs. You feel like you could be more of a dog person.

“No,” he stops you, “You can call me Tae. Whatever you want.”

You turn your attention back on the also cute brunette in front of you. In all honestly, despite his youthful god-like countenance, he looks slightly out of place at this college bar with you in his upstanding business attire and dorkishly adorable thick-framed glasses.

“Sure. How about Tee-Tee? Or Hyungie? The TaeMan?” You wiggle your brows with the suggestion.

“God help me.”

The two of you clink your shot glasses together even though neither of your songs are being played.

His Apple watch lights up to indicate an incoming message. He relays the text to you, “Fei’s done work. She’s on her way now.” You can’t help but notice a shift in his previously excited demeanor.

You nudge him with your elbow. “Aren’t you excited? She’ll need a glass of wine or two to destress after work. I might be projecting onto you for this part, but you’re buzzed. So after we get her to unwind I’m sure the overwhelming power of pheromones will get you lucky tonight.” You wink at him to emphasize your point.

“She’s not a big drinker. She’s probably just going to come and ask to leave in five minutes. Bars like this aren’t really her thing either,” he states. He then unbuckles his watch and tucks it away into the pocket of his pants. Undoing the cuffs of his shirt, he rolls up the sleeves and continues to regard you solemnly. “Okay, next round is one me. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to switch songs?”

You notice how nice, long, and slender his fingers are. Plus the thing of girls liking when men have visible veins on their forearm? That had never really caught your attention until now.

“She’s a bit of a bitch,” you say and immediately regret, “Shit, sorry. That just slipped out. Alcohol.”

He offers you his water to drink.

“I mean, she’s a little…uptight at times? But people can be completely different in and out of work. I can only imagine how stressful it is in her position. Working overtime until 9pm on a Saturday night seriously sucks,” you say to try and mend your wrongdoing.

“Fei in the office is basically Fei at home,” he says softly, “It’s always work with her.”

“We support career-driven women, yeah?” A smile is offered from you to him.

He finally lets out a small one and nods. Out of the blue, he reaches over and covers your hand with his. Staring intently into your eyes, he says, “I know she makes you do her reports and occupies your time to do her coffee runs as well. You can say no to her. She may be my girlfriend, but you’re technically my intern, and I will stand on your side no matter what.”

“Um, okay. Thanks, Tae,” you say. His sincerity has caught you off guard.

At that moment, the sound of clicking heels pierce its way into your eardrums through the noise of the even busier bar. Taehyung quickly retracts his hand.

Fei arrives, not a hair out of place in her tightly pulled bun. Her lips are painted a striking red against the paleness of her skin, and her manicured nails dig into the forearm of Taehyung when she reaches them. Even though she is wearing an otherwise drab office business suit, the curvature of her body draws quite a few glances from the younger men in the crowd.

“It’s like a zoo here,” she sneers, turning away from a sacrificial lamb who had been bold enough step out of his circle of friends to greet her with a sleezy “hey”.

“Hi, Fei. Busy night?” you greet her first.

She gives you a tight-lipped smile. “Yes. I don’t know why you weren’t there. Isn’t it the intern’s job to complete reports?”

Again, a loosely defined use of “intern” at DailyHive.

You return her smile with a crisp one of your own.

She turns away from you and regards Taehyung, who looks as if he had been the sacrificial lamb instead. “Teddybear, let’s go home. You know this type of place isn’t my vibe. I’m getting a headache already.”

You raise an eyebrow at his pet name.

He turns a little bit pinker, if that is possible under the current alcohol-induced glow of his cheeks, and says, “Um, sure. Y/N, are you going to be okay getting home?”

Waving him off, you show him your phone. “30% left. I’ve got pepper spray in my bag and enough booze in me to not run from a fight. I’ll call an Uber home soon, don’t worry.”

Fei has already begun to fight her way through the squirming, dancing bodies. Taehyung glances quickly at her and turns back to you once last time. “Text me that you’re home safe.”

“Will do, boss,” you smile at him warmly.

He lingers for just a moment more before running after his impatiently waiting girlfriend.

You turn back to the bar and order another beer for yourself. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is perhaps the biggest perk of being single.

...

On the opposite side of town, sinking deeply into a soft lounge chair is Seokjin enjoying a rare evening out with his best friend. He has swapped his usual attire for a more relaxed fit of a white oversized crewneck and techwear bottoms. A heavy, exorbitant fur-lined long leather coat hangs on the coat rack beside the door to their private VVIP room. He swirls his glass of Chateau Lafite before sipping delicately.

Outside, only a handful of patrons sit quietly engrossed in their own conversations. It is a relatively empty night at the high-end lounge. A lady sings sultrily on stage with the smooth background of a saxophone as accompaniment.

Junho has poured himself another glass while he is talking to Seokjin. Seokjin had since slightly tuned out his friend’s rather elongated rendition of another celebrity sighting to occupy his mind with another individual.

“Earth to Jin? When did you get so lightweight since I’ve been gone?” Junho waves a hand in front of Seokjin’s nose.

Seokjin blinks to refocus.

“The mansion I bought last year or the one I bought last month?” he reiterates. Sensing that Seokjin truly had no idea what the topic at hand had been, he tries again.

“Where should I do my birthday party this year, man? I thought the mansion from last year since it’s closer to the city, but I feel like it’s been reused too many times. It’s not completely furnished yet, but the property I got last month is significantly bigger and I can probably host more people.”

“The new place then,” Seokjin answers half-heartedly.

Junho grumbles something intelligible.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing,” Junho sighs, “Tell me what’s new with you. How’s that little project of yours going? I still can’t believe you won’t let me know who you’re planning to take to the Gala.”

Seokjin had refused to release even the slightest detail about you to Junho. Letting him know that Seokjin had agreed to one of his plans would be enough to inflate Junho’s ego for at least a little while.

“It’s been going...”

Junho waits for more of Seokjin’s answer, but his friend’s attention has been turned to a received text.

10:17pm “Safe and sound, Teddy Bear.”

10:17pm “Or should I say Taeddybear? 🥴”

10:18pm “That last beer done me rael godo.”

10:18pm “Real good**”

Seokjin raises a brow at the unknown number. He responds back.

10:18pm “Who is this? I think you’ve got the wrong number.”

Junho crosses his legs and sits back with a sigh. He presses the button to request for an attendant.

10:19pm “You know who… Anyways, I just wanted to say thank you for saying you’ve got my back. It’s definitely appreciated.”

The response doesn’t do much except to further pique Seokjin’s curiosity.

“Sorry,” he says, sliding his phone back into his pocket, “Rogue text I think.”

Junho shrugs. “Is that right? Seems to have caught your attention.” There is now a manner of indifference to his voice.

“It’s going well, by the way – answering your question. I mean, all things considered. It’s not like I have to teach her how not to stuff a cocktail shrimp up your nose.”

His friend snorts. “I’d be concerned and against this person if it’s who you’re planning to bring.”

Seokjin’s phone buzzes again.

10:21pm “Pray for me when I wake up with the worst hangover of my life. I’m going to bed now.”

A moment of silence.

10:21pm “I hope I didn’t piss off Fei tonight for stealing you for the evening.”

10:22pm “Okay I’ll shut up now. Please don’t tell me you’re reading this. You should be getting some 😼💦.”

The emoji makes Seokjin choke, liquid sputtering from his lips.

Junho cusses. He angrily dabs at the speckle of red wine that has landed on his pearly white top.

10:23pm Download attached image. “Just in case, here’s a little something to get the night started 😉”

“What the hell man?” Junho gets up and makes his way to the bathroom. Luckily, the previously called attendant had arrived in time to escort him.

Seokjin barely notices that he is alone in room as he taps the download button. It isn’t until he has returned home and is looking at the picture one last time before bed that he realizes who his mysterious texter is.

The employee nametag clipped to the collar of your workday shirt hanging on the arm of a chair can only be found when zoomed in past your painted toes and naked feet.

...

You cannot hide your nervousness when you arrive at your “lunch meeting” the following Monday morning. All weekend, you had cursed yourself for not better checking who the recipient of your texts were before pressing send. Never had you thought that in your drunken stupor you would mix up “The Devil” in your contact list with “Taehyung Kim.” Curse you and your lack of friends beginning with the letter “T”.

You balk before, a hand poised in perfect position for a knock. Maybe he didn’t download it? And even if he did, it was just a troll feet pic. You had made sure that it was as pg-13 as possible before you had sent it.

“Hi,” you greet sheepishly when he has given you the go to enter.

In a smart plain blue button-up and round frames that are almost certainly for the aesthetics, the CEO of the company and your boss sizes you up and down.

“I know we’ve gotten to know each other better these past few weeks. But you’d think it’s still common courtesy to at least make eye contact,” he says. You look at him wide eyed without a word.

He rolls his eyes but does not gesture to your usual seat. In fact, you don’t spy a take-out container in sight. He instead stands up and picks up his phone, walking to the door. He notices you have yet to move.

“Let’s get moving. You’ve only got a 45 minute lunch.”

You scramble to match his speed and catch Taehyung’s eye as you grab your jacket at your desk. Taehyung’s gaze follows you as you hurry to leave in pursuit of Seokjin’s coattail.

...

The restaurant is a popular vegan establishment with a plethora of greenery crawling up its high ceilings and a window-framed overview of the city’s skyline. Waiters and waitresses who may just as well be walking New York Fashion Week serve you brunch mimosas on a golden plate; they attentively wait to the side in case you ever run out of water.

Common topics are rare between the two of you. Initially, you respectfully kept quiet and only answered questions when asked, but you have never been one for awkward silence. Yes, it’s awkward only if you make it awkward; there is just no denying the hanging suspense that curls your toes each time. Recently, you have started with simple inquiries regarding the company, who they might meet at the Gala and everyday mundane topics.

“You’re probably wondering why we’re out of the office,” Seokjin says. He continues shortly after taking a bite of his meal and ignores the look of your surprise at his initiation of a conversation. “My office has been getting stuffy with the warmer weather so I thought it’d be nice to get some fresh air. How’s the food?”

You nod, making small sounds of contentment as you chew on the Avocado Lime Tartare. Mmm… tart-y.

He takes a deep breath in, stalling the incoming conversation. “It’s my friend’s birthday this next weekend.”

“Oh,” you say, “Happy early birthday to him.”

“He’s my best friend.”

“Well… An extra happy early birthday to him.”

A sigh. “Are you free next weekend?”

Your chewing comes to a halt and you blink once at his question. Next weekend is the weekend before the Silver Gala. It is also the sole weekend before your birthday the following Friday after the Gala. You had hoped to spend it with Taehyung and maybe even Jimin who had promised to be in town on a long overdue vacation despite your chastising to visit your parents first.

He senses your trepidation. Quickly, he explains himself,

“He’s having a birthday party Saturday night. He has a place about an hour north of here. I can have somebody pick you up if that’s more convenient. I don’t have a birthday present for him and thought it’d be nice for you to meet him.”

“You’re giving him me for a present?” you ask, incredulously.

He bites his tongue. He never anticipated how awkward this conversation could go.

“You’re going as my plus one. He really wants to meet you; in fact, he insisted that you be there. He’ll be at the gala too. I have something else planned for his birthday present,” he adds hastily, “Besides, you’re less than qualified as a present.”

Musing silently to yourself, you wonder if in any situation should a human be qualified as a present. Despite that, you hate yourself as you agree on the spot.

The rest of the lunch passes by quickly in dull silence. As Seokjin pays for the meal on the company card (and hands you the receipt for reimbursement), you note that there has been no comment made on any strange photos texted to him over the weekend.

Perhaps being nonchalantly implied as a human birthday gift to a stranger is your karma for sending weird texts to your boss.

Seokjin stays inside the car as he drops you off at the office after lunch, already preparing for his next business meeting. You nod your goodbye and step onto the pavement through the courteously held open door of the limousine.

“Y/N, try a soft pink. Fuchsia is not your colour,” he tells you as the door is closed.

He then leaves you standing in front of the large office doors, staring at your chipped, week-old purple toenails.

...

“I’m not exactly expecting a package in the mail or a dress laid out on the hotel bed – ”

“You guys are staying at a hotel?” Taehyung says over the phone.

You are standing in your bedroom, an hour before when Seokjin is supposed to pick you up as an offering to his best friend. There are two dresses laid out on your Hello Kitty bed covers: a simple black dress you had worn once when you were a little bit more in shape and your prom dress.

“No, I’m at home. But I mean, let me play into this movie metaphor.”

“You suck at metaphors.”

You have your phone propped up on some pillows so that you can see Taehyung as you debate your fashion decision. He is in a relaxed white tee, hair messily framing his face after a shower and a bowl of popcorn in his hands. You watch as a droplet of water runs down his face from his still-wet hair. He nonchalantly licks it off from the side of his mouth.

“As I was saying, it wouldn’t hurt to get me something. He made it seem like it was a big deal. Like doesn’t the male lead usually surprise the female lead with a big bouquet of flowers and this over-the-top expensive dress which she wears and makes the male lead fall head over heels in love with her?”

He chews silently on a kernel then probes, “You want Mr. Kim to fall in love with you?”

“No,” you hastily correct, “It’s a metaphor. I think you’re the one who sucks at metaphors.”

There is a beep on your phone to indicate you have another incoming call.

“Tae, I’m going to have to call you back. My brother’s calling me,” you tell him. The black dress; your old prom dress is way too early 2000s. Black never hurts.

“Okay. Have fun tonight. Pretend that it’s your birthday party. And then I’ll meet you for brunch tomorrow, my treat? You can tell me all about it,” he says. “Also the black. You look cute in that one.”

“My party if I was 30, rich and successful. Oh wait, I’ll have one thing in common soon; that’s a start. Thanks though. I’ll call you tomorrow morning once I get up,” you say, then switch the call over to your brother. You had missed the flush of his cheeks as you busily swipe your phone.

Sticking the prom dress back into your closet, you rummage around the meager display of shoeboxes for a pair of high heels.

“Hey, Jimin,” you greet over the phone.

“Jesus, I do not need to be accosted by my half-naked sister,” he yells over the phone.

You turn rapidly, seeing that you had accidentally continued a video call from when you had hung up on Taehyung. You throw a pillow over the camera in your haste to cover yourself up.

“I was going to ask why you’re dressed like that but on second thought, I think I’ll leave your sexual exploits as your own secret.”

Despite how disturbed you feel about this comment, his cheerful voice makes you smile.

“So little sis, the weekend before the big three-oh!”

“Please stop reminding me.”

“Where do you want to meet tonight? I just got off the plane, but I can be ready to meet in about an hour. I booked a hotel close to the airport.”

Shit. You forgot to tell Jimin. These heels will have to do.

“Um… I, uh…”

“What?”

You clear your throat and begin to undress in front of the mirror. You have a sudden conscious thought that the dusty treadmill in your living room seems to be staring daggers at your back.

“I’ve got plans tonight.”

“Plans? I wasn’t even aware you had friends here.”

“Ouch, Jimin. But yes, I have friends. In fact, I am meeting a friend for brunch tomorrow if you want to join. I’m sure he’ll be okay with it.”

“He?” Jimin repeats, “Should I put on my big brother boxing gloves? Give him a good talking to in case he’s interested in my baby sister?” Pause. “Was that who you were calling before?”

You bite your answer back, not feeling the need to go down that rabbit hole.

“He’s just a friend; A co-worker really,” you say, “He’s also unavailable. And before you suggest anything, his goalkeeper is technically one of my bosses so I do not want to try and shoot past her thank you very much.”

Jimin laughs. “I wasn’t going to suggest anything. Well if you’re busy tonight, tomorrow morning works for me. Give me a call. I’ll spend the night in watching some good ol’ Netflix and enjoy this vacation time.”

“Sorry again,” you apologize.

“Go out and have fun,” he says, “You deserve it.”

The two of you finish off the call with the usual goodbyes. You have forty-five minutes to dress the part of a sparkly birthday surprise for the co-founder of the company you work for. Throwing on your favourite throwback music, you get to work.

Once satisfied, you snap a picture and sending it to Taehyung making special care that you have picked the right individual this time.

...

The mansion is bigger than you could have ever imagined, and the amount of people present are…

“You’re telling me I can do whatever I want tonight,” you ask Seokjin in the car.

There is no denying that Seokjin knows how to dress for an event. In a velvety black and white suit, contrasted by his blonde hair which he has elected to temporarily dye for the evening, he looks very much the posh CEO magazines brand him out to be. You are glad you elected for the simple black dress as standing beside this Renaissance statue in a floral pastel yellow dress would be like planting dandelions in Kanye’s sculpture garden (if he ever wanted one).

“The majority of people won’t recognize you after tonight. They’ll also be too drunk to even register anything you tell them,” Seokjin says.

He cannot believe that you chose a simple black dress. Did you really not own anything remotely feminine besides the most generic clubbing outfit? Even if you had wanted to make an appearance as a hooker, at least make it an expensive-looking one. Maybe he should have bought you that Versace dress he spotted in the window the other day. Instead…

“Take this. Your earrings are too gaudy for this event.”

You touch the sparkly black cats you have put into your ears. Their eyes are made of crystal, and you thought it looked quite fetching in the light. Opening up the box, you see a dainty elegant pair of teardrop earrings that may or may not be of real diamonds.

“Only Junho will know who you really are and then you can enjoy the rest of your night. I don’t want you to feel like you’re being held here against your will.”

Putting them on, you note that even this simple change in attire has elevated the entirety of your presence. You felt as luxurious as this gift.

“Thanks, Seokjin,” you try the first name basis he had insisted upon for this evening, “Not going to lie, I had imagined that maybe you’d send me a dress in the mail or something, but this is still very nice.”

He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Like in the movies? Please, I run a start-up company. I’m not a millionaire and I don’t think you would appreciate my handouts.”

You don’t respond, making your second note of the night on the Prada label on the cuff of his suit. “To clarify, I don’t introduce myself as your plus-one tonight.”

“No. I don’t want you associated with me,” he curtly states. He watches as your smirk twitches and he hits himself mentally in the head again. “It’s to protect you. There are bound to be tons of paparazzi tonight at a party as big as this. I don’t want you to find yourself in the tabloids tomorrow morning. Just be smart.”

The car pulls to a stop after inching its way up to the front door. People mill about outside in extravagant brands, holding glasses of champagne. The man of the hour is somewhere inside the building, charming his way into new business deals as well as making new friends.

“Stay close to me. You can leave after we meet Junho. It is his birthday after all,” Seokjin offers a hand as you step out of the car.

You take it, looping yourself into him so that your hand rests on his forearm. You are only 13 days younger than Junho, and yet this striking contrast in lifestyle hits you like a landslide while the two of you walk up the stairs and into the mansion.

Inside, it is dim with disco lights flashing to the beat of amped party music. Upon entrance, the two of you are offered glasses of liquor (you take a swirling iridescent drink) to which you are then ushered to where the birthday boy lounges.

Junho has an even more youthful face than Seokjin does. Where Seokjin’s features exude class and charm, Junho appears mischievous and looks to have stepped out of every girl’s bad boy dream.

You stop Seokjin with a tug and make him look at you. “Tell me: do I look like a passable birthday offering?”

Seokjin rolls his eyes and pulls you along with him.

“Jin!” Junho hollers loudly across the room when spotting his oldest friend. There is a doll-like female magnetized to his side. “This is Clara, my date for the evening.”

Seokjin shakes her hand and greets them. The female cannot seem to pry her eyes away from this handsome new stranger. He introduces himself chivalrously to her as Junho sides up to you and grips your hands in his. His breath smells strongly of mixed drinks, and you know that in about fifteen minutes the entire night will be a blur for him.

“You must be Y/N!” he says excitedly, “Jin didn’t tell me that you were coming! What a surprise!”

“I am,” you greet back with a large smile. “Although I’m also surprised. Seokjin told me that you had insisted I came.”

Seokjin grits his teeth, annoyed at Junho. Would he ever learn when to keep his big mouth closed?

Laughing loudly, Junho grabs two drinks just as a waiter passes by and hands them to you. “Insist might be a strong word,” he says, drilling another hole unknowingly, “I honestly thought I’d have to play part-time wingman tonight. But I’m glad he’s got someone by his side.” He jabs you a little too hard in the ribs. “Next week’s gala is going to be fun! Okay, now there’s only one rule tonight: there are no rules!”

The four of you clink your glasses together, while you do your best to hide an embarrassed smile on behalf of the birthday boy.

“You bet I’m going around as your trophy wife tonight,” you whisper in Seokjin’s ear when Junho looks away.

He whirls around to look at you, the tip of both your noses impossibly close together. He can taste the acidity of the wine when you breath out with a wicked smile. He barely has time to stop you as you peel yourself away to mingle with the crowds.

Seokjin is about to follow you but Junho pulls him away, flamboyantly introducing his handsome best friend to a group of international models. He turns on his brightest smile, but his heart thunders in his chest at you calling yourself his wife.

...

You twirl around in your dress, nobody noticing the small splash of champagne on the front of it in the quickly changing lights.

“He bought this for me last week. Says it reminds him of the first night we met. Our eyes met across the waters in Tuscany where he was on a business trip. I’ll let you on a little secret, but I was his mistress for a little while.”

Seokjin cannot make out the words you are saying to a small but growing group of people around you. He stands across from Junho, but looks over the latter’s shoulders to watch as you do another spin.

“A little while, Charlotte? Are you still his mistress?” an older lady with an exuberant amount of jewels hanging off her body whispers with a keen interest in your expertly spun story.

Charlotte Dior Laurent, an identity you are pretty sure is an amalgamation of French brands from the top of your mind. You continue to personify this character however.

“Don’t worry. He’s left her since. I know I know, my friends all say the same. ‘He’s already been divorced three times. How can you be sure he won’t leave you?’”

At this point, you are in way over your head at having told this story to at least two other groups and a multitude of other renditions to whomever you have met tonight. But there is something powerful about liquid courage as it courses through your body.

The lady lays a hand on your arm. “I don’t want your heart to break. You are still young.”

Looking up between the heads of your audience, you catch Seokjin’s eyes. They are fiery and it sends a strange sensation up your toes to your abdomen. You give a titillating wave at him in which he does not return.

“He says I’m special and different. How can you say no to that?” you exclaim with exasperation, fully committing to the poor damsel just oh-so in love.

There is a look of genuine concern on the lady’s face at your statement.

Before you can dig yourself a deeper hole, you place your empty glass on the table and excuse yourself. You do not know if it’s the drinking on a relatively empty stomach or if the room is really much warmer due to the multitude of bodies, but you head out to the balcony.

On your way out, you notice that the clock reads twenty minutes past midnight. This gives you a shock at how fast time has passed. Perhaps you should go find Seokjin if you are to get a decent amount of sleep before meeting with Taehyung and Jimin tomorrow. Speaking of Taehyung…

You pull out your phone and see that there are two unread messages. The first is from Jimin, confirming that he is indeed invited to brunch tomorrow morning. The second is a response from Taehyung.

11:09pm “Wow. You have me a little lost for words. I had imagined you’d look nice in the dress but… You really are beautiful.”

Smiling, you type in your response.

12:21am “Thanks, Tae. You’re up late.” You take a picture of the earrings Seokjin had gifted you and attach it to the message. “What do you think of these?”

Barely have you returned your phone into your bag when it buzzes again. This time you receive an attached image. Taehyung seems to be sitting in front of a monitor, as his face glows with a blue light and contorted into a pensive furrow of his brows.

12:21am “A little different from your usual style. Are they new? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear those.”

12:21am “Fei’s out with some friends tonight. She likes when I wait for her to come back before I sleep. To make sure she’s safe, I guess.”

12:22am “Pooey. I should’ve brought you as my plus-one 😩. Also, Seokjin bought them for me for tonight. He says my other earrings are too gaudy.”

12:24am “First name basis 🙃”

12:25am “How is your night going? Having fun?”

You are about give Taehyung a call for a detailed recounting of tonight’s escapades when someone speaks out from within the shadows.

“A penny for your thoughts?” He walks into the moonlight. You flush, meeting the eyes of this particularly dashing gentleman, the phonecall immediately forgotten.

Oh, Alcohol, you make even the smartest of people do dumb shit. And right now, your effects are even worse on this idiot.

Your mouth hangs slightly open as you watch him puff out smoke from his cigar and offer it to you. He brushes up beside you, his fingers trailing up your hand which grips the balcony. You cannot seem to break away from his gaze.

“Lung cancer has an increasing incidence rate particularly for females due to smoking. Are you sure you want to be condoning this type of behaviour?” Seokjin interjects himself between you and your Tuxedo Mask, pushing the outstretched cigar back towards its owner.

There is a small stare down amongst the two men before the latter quietly exits the stage. Your eyes continue to linger on him even as he walks towards another female alone in the night enjoying the outdoor breeze.

“You’ve just ruined by chance. I could have seduced then blackmailed him with the story of his illegitimate child to play Black Widow,” you whine.

Seokjin takes the glass that had somehow magically appeared in your hand during the short walk from inside to outside on the balcony.

“How many have you had since we came?” he asks.

You sigh wistfully, still in your dangerous daydream. “I don’t know. I’ve lost count.” You turn your attention back to him eventually. “What are you doing here? Did you see me with him and get all jealous, hubby?” you tease.

He scoffs, drinking from your glass and pulling a face. Once again, there is that twist and jump within his chest, but he attributes it to whatever nasty concoction he had just ingested. He pours its contents over the railing and into whatever shrubbery lies below. “You seriously went with being my trophy wife?”

You shrug. “Of sorts. You’d better be right about people being too drunk slash not caring about me enough after tonight to remember the things I’ve said. ‘Cuz you’ve been divorced three times, had me along with another as your mistress, I think you’ve sired a few illegitimate children and all in all, a Games of Throne life. Damn, maybe I made you a little too badass.”

“You’re having water for the rest of the night,” he says.

You glare at him, contemplating on making a remark about his equally flushed face but decide against it. Instead, you lean onto the balcony and give a cat stretch. A large sigh escapes from you.

Wordlessly, he shakes off his jacket and places it around your shoulder all the while averting his gaze on the unblemished skin of your upper thighs that had been exposed from your previous movement.

Your blood feels like liquid fire coursing through your veins. Feeling overheated even in the evening breeze, you give him back his jacket. You note his reluctance to meet you even as you throw what could be a thousand dollar jacket in the air to him. “So what’s it like to live like this every day?” you say in wonder. You feel said breeze return and lean over the balcony to catch its chill.

“Like what?” he asks. The warm summer night’s breeze blows through, settling his hair in a childish tousle.

“Like rich,” you say. You sigh again. “Believe it or not, I’m the same age as your birthday boy best friend.

And everything feels absolutely unreal right now. If I hadn’t agreed to come here tonight with you, I’d probably be at another dingy bar knocking back shots with my brother and friend.”

“Are you a secret alcoholic?”

You glare at him. “No,” you state matter-of-factly. “As I was trying to share, this type of lifestyle is something I could ever only imagine. I’m not ungrateful about spending time with them, but at the end of the night I’d go home, sweaty, drunk and gross, and then simply pass out. My bank account might be a couple hundred bucks lighter. Come Monday I’ll be working my ass off just to earn back what I had spent. Then cue the repeating cycle.”

Resting your chin on your palm, your other hand sweeps your hair back behind your ear.

“It’s amazing the difference a few life choices can have.”

Seokjin remains silent beside you. Truthfully, he is at a loss of words. The moonlight plays across your face and caresses your nose down to your lips. You are arching your back once again to pull away the soreness that comes with wearing high heel the entire night. It is just a simple black dress but on you it made you look –

“Well, you’re Mrs. Kim tonight,” he starts.

“Charlotte Dior Laurent,” you correct him.

He raises an eyebrow. “Okay… Ms. Charlotte Dior Laurent. Tonight you get to live like the rich, as you’ve put it. As a rich person, what would you like to do?”

You ponder his question a few moments for the answer. “Hmm…I think I’d like to play golf. It’s a rich person’s sport. I want to play it on a private golf course, wearing cute golfing outfits and talk about million-dollar deals with a client without a care in the world. I want to order sangria by the gallon.”

He laughs out loud. It takes a while for him to be able to speak again, but when he does you feel as if the night has been illuminated a few degrees brighter. “I personally don’t have a private golf course, but Junho does here in his backyard if you’re up for it. I can’t promise cute golfing outfits so you’ll have to do with your wine stained dress. And if you’re really up for it I can pretend to make business deals with you, that’s my job anyways.”

You grin, taking the hand he has offered you. “Call.” The two of you shake upon his suggestion.

As he is leads you by the hand towards the dim gates of said golf course, you tug at him gently. “There’s something missing…” you say.

He shakes his head and pulls you back in towards the party room.

“I’ll see what they have at the bar.”

...

As the hands of the clock continue to spin past another hour, the summer night takes a chilly turn. Seokjin has lent you his jacket but even that cannot stop your fingers from becoming numb. Your hands shake even as they tightly hold the golf club. Seokjin watches you in silence as you prepare to hit the golf ball, a beer in one hand and a few opened bottles littered on the grass beside him. The club hits the ball with a resounding “cling” but does little in propelling it a few centimeters.

“This one doesn’t count,” you announce, “It’s too dark to see anything here.”

Seokjin takes a swig as you readjust your position. You sway in the wind and the last tendrils of your hair come undone in its half up half down hairdo. Your hair now whips wildly around your face when another gust blows through.

“Shit!” you exclaim, missing the ball again. “Why is golfing so hard?!”

You throw your club down and trudge to Seokjin. The six pack the two of you had been sharing has officially been depleted. Seokjin offers you his half empty bottle. This time, you are the one watching as he goes to your spot and effortlessly swings his target into the darkness.

He smirks from the spot.

You grumble. “You’ve had years of practice. Not fair.”

“You’ve got to do better than that, Mrs. Johnson,” he says, teasing you.

Your grumble becomes more audible. You place the now empty bottle on the ground and cross your arms against your chest. Since telling him of your other American alias from tonight, he has not ceased to remind you of your strange choice of name.

“Just so you know, Mrs. Johnson can afford both an affair and the consequential prenup,” you huff.

“It’s still a stupid last name.”

“It’s an American multinational corporation with an income in the billions, okay?”

“Keep telling yourself that if it makes you sleep better at night. Now come on, I’ve got one last ball. Take a swing.”

Groaning, you shuffle over. You wish you had not suggested golf. You had never been good at sports anyways – bad hand-eye coordination.

He stands beside you this time, scrutinizing your every movement with hawk-like eyes. “No, not like that,” he says, “Have a wider stance and bend your knees. Better centre of gravity gives you a better swing. Also hold it with a neutral grip.”

You readjust your positioning following his instructions.

“Index finger down the center. Good. And three knuckles on each hand. No, that’s two. Okay your hands are just weird now. Three. I said three.”

“Stop standing there and show me then, Mr. Know-It-All,” you say, your patience in this makeshift lesson also coming to an end.

He walks closer to you, reaching out for the golf club. He retracts his hands in seeing that you have yet to let go. “You got to – ”

“You can touch me. I did tell you that Mrs. Johnson can afford an affair and prenup. Besides, I’m not going to be able to learn anything if I can’t even see you in this dark.”

He comes behind you and puts a foot between yours to guide your stance. Wrapping his arms around you, he fixes the placement of your hands to grip the shaft of the club in the way he had previously instructed.

Perhaps it is the mixture of wine, champagne and beer offered tonight, but being enveloped in the warmth of this embrace intoxicates you. The tingles that are sent down from his soft breathing on the base of your neck, make you shake like a leaf in the wind.

He inhales the sweet undertones of your perfume. The tendrils of your hair brush against his collarbone, sending a sensual kiss onto his skin. Unconsciously, he draws you closer to him, shielding you from another gust.

“Now you just want to swing,” he says, the words a mixture of a whisper and guttural grunt. His chest rumbles with it, passing the vibration through to your back.

You remain as still as a statue and lean ever so slightly back into him until your entire backside is pressed upon him.

You can’t stop yourself as you ask him, “Do you want to have sex with me?”

...

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anyoneseenadam · 3 years

Note

That fenrys fic was divine 😭🔥 can I request something for him having a nightmare for the first time since he found his mate and she comforts him and reassure him ?a tiny bit of angst maybe 💔🤧

pairing: Fenrys x reader (throne of glass)

warnings: blood, violence, nightmares, character death (kinda), mainly fluff with a lil bit of angst

a/n: I completely stole the first half of this from a short story I wrote about Achilles lmao, also THANK YOU FENRYS IS AN ICON AND DESERVES ALL THE LOVE WHICH I AM HAPPY TO GIVE, hope u enjoy <3

(I did not proof read this because I am tired :))

——————————————————————————

Fenrys hands shook as they refrained from touching her, from pulling her in and wrapping himself around her, drowning in her hair, her skin, her clothes, her laugh, eyes, smile. She turned with a smirk and a cheeky eyebrow raise, beckoning him in. He lunged, grabbing her, ready to make true on his wish, staring in wonder as her solid form turned to mist in his hands as she moved further away. Her laugh drawing him in. And of course, he followed like the lost puppy he was, begging, and whining to return to comfort, home, safety. She was his home, and he would follow her to the ends of the world if it meant she stayed that way.

She had moved again, this time into a series of winding corridors, the maze he called his heart, a maze she owned. He chased after her, but she was quick, twisting and turning through corridors and secret doors, the map laid bare for her to see as he stumbled blinding, led only be the light she left in her path and her infectious laughter. Finally, she reached a dead end, casually bracing herself against the cold walls, releasing an exhale of laughter through her nose. He slowed his pace to a walk as she smiled up at him through curling lashes, nothing but the faint smudge of rouge high on her cheeks concealing her natural face to him, which he proceeded to wipe with his thumb when he reached her, his build towering over hers.

“Finished running, are you?” he mused quietly,

“I knew you wouldn’t let me get too far,” she whispered back, lips tracing his jaw.

“That’s because you hold my leash,” he allowed himself to concede, “always have, always will my darling.”

She let out a sigh of agreement, before leaning to his ear, their bodies pressed so tightly together he could feel her heart beating in his own chest, as if they had swapped hearts giving the other all they were, all they could be.

“There is no me without you.” She uttered the vows they had made that beautiful day, where she dressed as the angel he was sure she was. He leaned down to express his love, but she did not allow him to rest in her arms for long, pulling away with a giggle.

“What?” he asked with a smirk, but she was already gone giggling behind him, the chase beginning again.

But as he turned, blessed by the smile she gave him, all pearly white teeth and rosy cheeks, the warning shout he cried was not quick enough as a wash of deep red replaced the once pure and untainted white of her smile. Her mouth filling with blood, the sword protruding from her stomach like a handle. She stared at him questions not asked soon enough as she splutters up blood onto her previously fresh clothes, eyes full of fear, splitting his heart in half, the ground crumbling beneath his feet.

He tried to run to her, hands grasping at air as he fell through the cracks in his own heart, a scream tearing from his throat as she was pulled from him, skin draining of colour and eyes turning black, full of hatred and contempt as she stared him down.

His own scream woke him up, sweat and tears blending on his face like paint on a pallet, as he gripped her pillow and sobbed on their bed. He herded himself into the far corner of the bed, afraid when he realised she was not lying next to him, comforting words, and gentle hands ready to lull him back to sleep. Fear and sadness battled in his heart, the heart he had given her during the war, the heart she had held safely as she cut her way through armies to reach him again. The heart she had put back together with soft kisses and words of undying love. The heart she had tied to her own the day they wed and had kept pressed safely in her chest since.

He looked now, tears blurring the image he was presented with, bookshelves filled with stories you promised you would read eventually, tubes of lipstick on the floor next to the frame of their mirror, tea left to go cold in mugs dotted around the room, sketches left to be forgotten on desks and ribbons tied haphazardly around bed posts.

He saw all these signs of you, the clues you left him as he navigated your shared life. His eyes darted around the room, breath picking up when he couldn’t see you, pressing a hand to your side of the bed and finding it warm, his breathing only slowing a little.

He stood, pulling on a pair of boxers, and grabbing two daggers he kept next to the bed as his mind filled with the worst possible scenarios. He slowly padded out the room, moving silently through the house and thinking of a million different ways to torture whoever had dared to touch you. The tears on his face had dried uncomfortably but it was the least of his worries as he stalked through his own home, fear clouding his judgement that argued you were probably safe.

He heard movement in the kitchen and walked that way, footsteps light as he rounded to corner to a beautiful sight. His arms dropped as he took in the sight of you in nothing but his shirt, sipping from a glass of water, illuminated by the moons glow. You turned when he walked in, smiling at his but furrowing your eyebrows when you saw his facial expression and the knives in his hands.

“Fenrys, what happened?” you asked, moving over to him as he threw his daggers down, arms encircling your waist as he breathed in your scent. “Fenrys please, you’re scaring me.”

He pulled away from you and you reached up, stroking a hand down his face and looking up at him with nothing but concern in your eyes, eyes that were searching his for any clues of why he was acting this way.

“I though you were- I thought someone had,” he struggled to get the words out, pulling you even closer, one hand tangling itself in your hair as you furrowed your eyebrows at him, kissing his sharp jaw.

“Slow down love, tell me what happened,” your soothing voice calmed him, his breath coming easier as you moved a hand to his shoulder, your loving grip grounding him.

“I had a dream, then I woke up and you weren’t hear and I- I thought someone had taken you,” he whispered, eyes filling with tears as he pictured your lifeless eyes and limp body.

“Oh my love, I’m sorry,” you pulled away from him, clasping his large hand in your smaller one and pulling him to your shared bedroom, “But you know I’m not easy to kidnap, I make too much noise.” You joked, holding his hand to your mouth, and kissing it lightly as you walked over to your bed.

He sat down first, and you stood between his legs, his arms wrapping tightly around you again. “Don’t joke about that,” he muttered into your stomach, but he couldn’t resist the smile forming.

You pushed his head back and climbed into his lap, arms resting on his shoulders. “I mean honestly, if I ever got taken hostage I’m pretty sure I’d annoy them into letting me go, I’d just start explaining my top three reasons why every Jane Austen novel contains gay subtext.”

“Or you could explain to them the tier list you and Aelin made of all the men you know.” Fenrys laughed as your eyes lit up.

“I forgot about that!” you exclaimed and Fenrys laughed, lying down, and pulling you with him as he tickled your sides, revelling in your squeals as you batted your hands at him.

When you calmed down, breathing quickly you rolled off Fenrys as he nestled himself between your breasts, holding you close.

“Please never leave me,” he whispered into your chest as he listened to the steady beat of your heart as it created a song just for him. The vulnerability in his voice broke you and you moved a hand to his head, stroking lightly.

“Never.” You spoke with such surety that Fenrys let out the exhale he had been holding in. “I am never going to leave you, I’m always going to be by your side.”

“I love you so much, so much when I thought you were gone, I felt sick. I can’t do this without you.” He whispered into your skin. “Sometimes I’m scared that one day I’ll wake up and all this will have been a dream. And I’ll have to lie with Maeve again and kill for her and watch her hurt Conall and it will be so much worse, because I’ll remember this softness, I’ll remember you and maybe one day I’d find you and you wouldn’t recognise me, and for the rest of my life I’d think of you, of the woman I never got to love.”

“This is real.” You whispered, kissing his head, and ignoring the tears welling in your eyes, “I’m real, you’re real. We’re real Fenrys.”

He didn’t reply, just buried his face deeper into your chest, addicted to the feel of your heartbeat. The constant reminder that you were here, you were alive. After he lost his brother you noticed Fenrys had become clingier, you initially presumed it was just because he was in mourning and needed comfort but one night he had drunkenly confessed his biggest fear to you. The nightmares he would have where you left him, told him you hated him, and the worst of all, the nightmares in which he watched your life be cruelly ripped from you. He could live with you hating him and leaving him, knowing that somewhere in the world you were safe and breathing, but everyday he feared your death.

The mornings he would wake up and find you wincing, a hot water bottle pressed into your lower stomach, the thought of you in any form of pain ripping into him, making his heartbeat faster and his palms sweat. The powerful warrior brought to his knees for you, but you were always quick to reassure him with kisses and promises of staying in bed all day.

As he breathed in your scent now and listened to your heartbeat, happily surrounded by you and only you, he allowed himself to relax under you soft touch, his own heart slowing to beat with yours as the fear slowly melted from him.

He needn’t fear your death, as he knew that he would never let you die. No, instead he would always fall before you, sacrifice his own life, any life if it meant you survived. You were a Goddess sent to bless him and he would fall to worship before you, always.

#acofas #acomaf #acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #acowar #acofs #acosf

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ghostly-shenanigans-in-progress · 3 years

Text

BNHA X DP Crossover HCs

After the long wait and finals, here are my ideas for all the quirks/occupations and other concepts I devised for the DP characters in the BNHA universe. This was just for fun and for inspiration towards others interested in this crossover au in general.

Tagging the people that were looking forward to this post based on the replies: @qoinq-qhost, @floralflowerpower, @tgfangirl4eva @goodfish-bowl, @whitehairglowinggreeneyedcrush and more.

Anyways, happy reading, folks!

Mr. Lancer

Hero name: Mr. Scholastic

Quirk: Bookworm

Involves his iconic usage of literature titles & quotes for swears to become abilities corresponding to the novel’s contents/themes. Course, he is limited to only books he has read and can quote accurately. Additionally, his voice gets very raspy past two or three quotes as well.

Occupation: Homeroom Teacher for Class 1- A; He’s very dedicated to his new students and teaching the fundamentals of being a pro hero and more! Course, I don’t think his chamomile tea with a wedge of lemon is enough to help him relax from his students (*cough* Danny, Tucker and Poindexter) from their antics at times.

Danny

Hero name: Phantom

Quirk: Ghost core (Ok, @coffeecakecafe had the best name for this one gotta give credit here)

Able to do anything a ghost is perceived to do. Go through walls, disappear and fly. This is a one of a kind quirk as it was obtained from Danny’s old quirk being altered by a machine his parents made that would repurpose/alter an individual’s quirk based on their past family members' own metahuman genetics.

Danny is doing his best and trying to understand his new quirk without causing too much attention to himself while doing so but it seems like its been doing the opposite as of late. Thankfully, he won’t be doing it alone with all his classmates around to help him!

Sam

Hero Name: Black Dahlia

Quirk: Overgrown

Able to create any plant that she knows the biological makeup and content of in almost any environment. However, it is important for her to drink lots of nutrient rich water and take in enough sun if she plans to create larger versions of these plants.

Tucker

Hero name: Tech Master

Quirk: Tech Core

Located on his chest/heart area is a special energy core capable of powering electronics at a rate faster than anything made-man could ever hope to achieve. As a kid, Tucker would tinker away in his family’s garage on a suit that would harness his power to the fullest extent and lead a new era of support tech in the hero world.

Valerie

Hero name: Red Huntress

Quirk: Electromagnetism (Someone I’ve been trying to find their post on my blog had posted this idea and I fell in love with it ever since)

She’s like Static Shock but with a dash of magenta/ruby lasers she can create through focusing her electromagnetism through her finger tips. She is an expert with her quirk and has the best handle of her quirk than most of her peers. She is the most frequent visitor in the support equipment workshop next to Tucker, Poindexter and Danny. It’s how she built the hoverboard she has in the show that utilizes her electromagnetic abilities for both offensive and defensive maneuvers. (Also, I enjoy the idea that Bullet is Val’s uncle on her mom’s side and is her biggest supporter alongside her dad, Damien Gray).

Jazz

Quirk: Serenity

Helps calm individuals and give them a sense of safety/security when they’re around her in a 10 feet radius. Though, anyone out of range cannot be affected by her quirk and she needs to be conscious in order to use it.

She planned on becoming a pro hero but felt her powers were best suited for her dream profession as a psychologist. She has used her quirk a lot when Danny was overwhelmed with his studies prior to UA. Course, a phone call and sibling chat over the phone certainly does the job for Danny now when it comes to preparing material for exams. (Course, its up to you guys to decide)

Dash

Hero name: Rager

Quirk: Strength Magnification

Improves his physique and stamina by a large percentage for a set amount of time. Needs to be careful of how much/long he magnifies his body or else his body will become immensely sore.

Kwan

Hero name: Rallier

Quirk: Team Rally (50/50)

Able to duplicate himself 3-4 times while being able to power-up allies’ quirks or stamina with a rally chant to help the team. The more duplicates there are the rally effect multiplies/stacks on the individual but it can lead to dangerous outcomes for their quirk output.

Kwan is the class representative for 1-A, he’s the best at the job and was more than thrilled to be the one leading his class in more ways than one.

Paulina

Hero name: Enchantress

Quirk: Charm

If the opponent is flustered by her taunts or flirting, their vision will become altered and start seeing things that are not there. It works better on men than women and the opponent can snap out of it with enough willpower or if they’re not interested in her.

Star

Hero name: Ms. Meteorite

Quirk: Comet

Similar to Gran Torino’s Jet quirk except faster and she can create an explosive impact on where she lands. Similar to a meteorite landing on earth, she also learns to use this as a long distance move by punching fast enough as she descends to create wind pressure punches.

Poindexter

Hero name: Tex (like in Tex Avery; Danny gave him the idea!)

Quirk: Slapstick

His appearance is black and white just like an old timey cartoon character as well as having the durability and cartoon powers of one. However, his quirk can only work as long as what he does with it is funny in the circumstance it’s used for. Sort of like “Who Framed Roger Rabbit” rules in a sense.

Sidney is part of Class 1-A just saying, I don’t care, this is Poindexter’s time to shine here to be the coolest/funniest person in the class. Also, Tucker’s most loyal friend/tester for new support items.

Wes Weston

Hero name: Vigilance

Quirk: Deduction

He is able to deduct people’s identities to flaws/weak points for him to use against them and exploit against problems.

Class 1-B Representative and the most annoying/terrifying person that Danny has dealt with in his life. He was able to figure out that Danny’s quirk is not his own or more so that it's not natural and takes every opportunity to state this regardless if anyone is listening or not.

Amber Mclain

Hero Name: Ember

Quirk: Fiery voice (50/50)

Her quirk uses the vibrations in her sining voice to conduct intense heat waves onto opponents or utilize to rumble the structures around here and even put out the flames from her quirk. Its like a combination of Present Mic and Endevours quirk but it leaves her with a strained or inflamed vocal cords with overuse.

Third year student or an upcoming rock star that has certainly gain huge popularity after her song “Remember” was a nationwide hit amongst the younger generation. She’s striving to be the top hero while making her next hit to become the 1# song on the listings.

Dani

Hero name: Phantwo (lol jk; unsure what her name would be)

Quirk: Poltergeist

Similar to Danny’s quirk “Ghost”, except she has the additional ability to melt herself to a slimy puddle and use her ectoplasmic slime to trap or surprise opponents.

Clockwork

Hero Name: Clockwork

Quirk: Time Keeper

Clockwork’s quirk allows him to stop time for 5 to 15 minutes and be able to rewind it in the same amount of time. It can be one to multiple objects as long as he touches them in order to interact with them.

Principle of UA in this au. He’s quite a reserved man but still manages to visit and congregate with students throughout the school during lunch period.

Flynn Fenton/Flynn Walker

Hero Name: The Green Knight

Quirk: Mineralization

His quirk allows him to manipulate the minerals and inorganic materials in the atmosphere to create into crystalized constructs that are almost stronger than diamond. Luckily, the crystals have no value so he doesn’t have to worry about that aspect of his quirk. He does have to worry about his skin becoming dried out as a result of his quirk usage.

Flynn is a third year student that loves to check up on his cousin, Danny, any chance he gets bc of the amount of work he does with his internships.

James Walker (or James W. Hausermann)

Hero name: Warden Wraith

Quirk: Plasma Apparatus

His quirk ionizes the electrolytes in the blood system into plasma. His entire body is composed of plasma giving him his skeletal appearance. He can create plasma chains, teleport from point A to B and more as long as he focuses and has enough energy at use. Course, he can have minor to severe dehydration and imbalance in his electrolyte levels from overuse.

Occupation: CEO of an infrastructure security company/Provisional License Examiner just like Gang Orca.The ghost prison guards become his backup/helpers for the exam phases. (They’re just trained stuntmen with combat or military experience for the occasion).

Also, I like to think Walker has kids in this au who are in the Class 1-A group; they’re not hard to spot they take after their father with their skeletal complexion.

Skulker

Villain name: Quirk Hunter

Quirk: Tracker

The moment Skulker makes eye contact with his target he will be able to hunt them down and find them anywhere no matter how good they are at covering their tracks. He can lock on to only one target, but he will be able to know their heart beat, quirk, be able to place a tracking/scent line that only he can see and will lead him to his target’s location. It lasts for over a day or a half.

Occupation: Skulker is known for capturing, info-detailing or “retiring” newcomer pros or specific quirk users for his clients that pay him handsomely for their targets, dead or alive. Thanks to Vlad, Danny was strictly intended to be captured alive by Skulker but sometimes he gets too thrilled by the hunt to not have a memento. Trust me, it's more of a dangerous

Nicolai Technus

Villain Name: Technus

Quirk: Technopathy

A genius in his own right, even if he’s a little crazy, with the best ability possible for a man of science and innovation. As long as he knows the makeup and attributes of the machine, Technus is able to completely repurpose or change a machine’s qualities for offensive and defensive qualities. Whenever that be for a mech suit or hacking a high tech system for entry, he’s able to do it as long as he knows what it is and how it functions. An example is repurposing a slot machine into a submachine gun that shoots coins at the target.

Vlad Masters

Name: Vlad Plasmius

Quirk: Vampire

Can do anything a vampire can supposedly do. However, he was able to manifest an additional aspect of this quirk which is the ability to copy any quirk users ability. Based on the type of blood he ingests decides the amount of time he can use the copied quirk for.

Occupation: CEO of his own hero firm, he is extremely selective with the interns he has that there is a major waitlist to be even consider for Masters Inc. Course, imagine the surprise Danny must of felt when he received an offer from Vlad right off the bat after the Sports festival.

Bruce Guiles (Bullet)

Hero Name: Bullet

Quirk: Sphyraena or Chimera Fish

Able to do anything a barracuda can do or the quirk is a 50/50 mutant quirk in which he has both the traits of a barracuda, Chimaeras and a touch of piranha from his parents being of one of these fish species hence Chimera. Bullet can do anything those fish can do overall but he can’t go too long without hydration from water. Water quality and its oxygen content also affect his abilities by a noticeable percentage but he still remains quite formidable as a quirk user.

Occupation: Captain of a coast guard team, he’s a strict military man with an amazing record of saving people from any disasters both on land and sea. Him and Walker are best buddies ever since they went to school together.

Vortex

Hero Name: Vortex

Quirk: Storm Warning

Vortex can utilize any variation of a natural disaster depending on the environment he’s in. Hurricanes, tornadoes, thunderstorms, you name it he can create it for his use. However, despite his amazing control over his quirk it is still possible for him to create these disasters if he lost control or magnify another pre-existing one if he loses focus.

Occupation: Storm-chaser/Forecaster; His control and knowledge in combating/predicting these natural disasters has led to him to be part of a storm chasing crew and they’re the best in helping disaster prevention teams evacuate citizens as a result.

Petra Eris

Hero name: Pandora

Quirk: Butterfly Effect

Can manipulate or prevent a chaotic event to happen if she was in proximity and present to prevent it to happen. Or even give a little chaos to the opponent to deal with during battle.

One of the top ten heroes and most beloved heroes in the country. She is the best strategist in any team and has a way to predict any event before they happen given the necessity of it for her quirk to work in her favor.

Johnny

Vigilante name: Johnny 13

Quirk: Unlucky

Johnny manifests his bad luck into a shadow that will latch onto opponents and cause unfortunate events to occur more for that individual as a result. However, the shadow cannot exist in complete sunlight; it can only remain if there are already shadows in his general area or it’s nighttime and its effects are strongest at that time obviously.

Occupation: Johnny is the leader of a biker gang or de-facto leader of said biker gang who loves to raise hell and helping folks that need saving whenever he’s around or is up to the task. Kitty tags along with him to help him out of jams and bc she loves him. :3

Kitty

Vigilante name: Kitty

Quirk: Lovesick

Kitty sends a smooch towards her opponent which if it makes contact causes the individual to have nausea or become disoriented for around 10 minutes. It can also have a chance of lasting longer if the individual was sort of infatuated with her regardless of gender.

Pariah Dark

Villain name: King Pariah

Quirk: Ultimate Adaptation

Similar to all for one except with the unpredictability for both the user and opponents. Pariah can manifest any type of quirk needed to defeat anyone that stands in his way both one-on-one and in groups. Course, drawbacks are the learning curve to some of the quirks and that multiple adaptions he utilizes at once will destroy his cells in the process.

Pariah is a former follower of all for one who had unique quirk that All for one augmented to help him succeed if both Shigaraki and Tomura failed in their own conquest for the world. But now Pariah has his own plans to succeed where they failed and become the leader who shapes a new world order with an iron fist.

Frederick Kingsmen

Villain/vigilante name: Fright Knight

Quirk: Burning Energy Infusion

Able to form/infuse objects with his own burning energy life force that is capable of burning or slicing through any in his sight. The sweat he gives off is what provides the material needed to ignite his unnatural flames despite it causing his body to overheat still.

Fright Knight is Pariah’s second-in-command with a loyalty to him as strong as his control over his power. Fright Knight has faced many pro-heros as he carried out the smaller phases of Pariah’s plans and most of them barely came close towards defeating or leaving as much as scratch on the knight.

Rodolfo Gonzalo

Hero name: Wulf

Quirk: Werewolf + Portal creation (50/50?)

Can do anything a werewolf can supposedly do; somehow it allows him to create portals with his claws to locations he has marked with them or visited in the past.

Wulf was abducted on by Pariah’s forces and sent into the Nomu labs for experimentation to force on another quirk and instill complete allegiance to their cause. Course, Wulf broke free as a result of that new additional quirk allowing him to escape their clutches and his previous one helping him survive the endeavor. However, he lost his memories in the process and could only remember his native language, Spanish, and his hero name Wulf.

Overgrown

Villain/vigilante Name: Overgrown

Quirk: Plant Manipulation

Can manipulate any pre-existing plant matter or create new vegetation if water and soil is present for the process or he understand the biological makeup of the plant in question.

Occupation: Pro-hero or eco-terrorist who is tired of humanity from abusing the environment from quirk battles to industries using the land for their own benefits and none others.

That’s all I have for now! I hope this was worth the wait, guys. As well as, inspire ideas for your takes with a DP x BNHA Crossover!

#danny phantom #DP x BHA crossover #dp x bha au #dp x bnha #phandom #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #paulina sanchez #dp ember mclain #dp walker #dp bullet #dp kwan #dp mr. lancer #dp dash baxter #dp crossover #dp aus

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incarnateirony · 4 years

Note

Hi! I’m still not really over the last episode (and that happy montage in the end i-) and I’m feel confused about what’s part of the episode was fake. I mean the end totally is. But all Chuck scene was superweird too. And sometimes i think that it should be Cas instead of Lucifer and Jack felt him. I mean... confused! How do you feel about that?

Okay so here’s the thing -- this is a multifaceted episode--

BuckLeming, while often herded efficiently by Dabb, can muddy up the textual waters, leave gaps, and things unexplained.

However, that doesn’t account for Showalter’s choices in direction. Dutch shots out the ASS which are typically used to evoke that something is "wrong." Lots of panoramas, tracking shots, zooms and blurs in ways that simply are-not-standard for SPN. Extreme aerial shots.

One might even think “maybe it’s Chuck looking in on them!” but then you realize the same overhead view zoomed out on *Chuck* even and panned out to the horizon again.

One of the early mega-zooms literally zoomed out to The World, even. I’m just gonna gesture people to my tag on that and let them think on that, much less the empty world orbiting on the news or whatever the hell else.

There were *several* Cas-baits, yes. Yes, that was intentional from our actual authors.

But when it comes down to “fake episode”, here’s where we were at.

15.17-19 run immediately concurrently. At the end of 17, Chuck says this was his ending.

Now, the Winchesters largely derailed that ending, so Chuck was writing new material.

But Chuck is also seeking death.

He wrote a suicide note in 11. He wrote the story that would end in him and Amara being eradicated. And whatever influence he was exerting forcefully with Michael and Lucifer to bop the story around was all in the interest of seeing his book. One might think “to keep the Winchesters from killing him”, but he was desperate to see what his ending WAS, to know it and experience it and scream after them.

The dour taking of “no one cares” right after “I care(d)” about humanity is its own highlight going on. But wait, there’s MORE.

When Dabb dropped his pre-episode thing, we started talking before the episode.

So I mean, I think what we were *mostly* witnessing is the pen being ripped away.

But this is that emptiness that lingers even with Chuck generally resolved. They’re still kinda on the pages. The book is presented as shut, and the next steps are not taken. Development stops, if not drops.

This entire thing is so meta my damn head hurts.

Summarily: Is it just like, some weird AU that’s gonna go away? Not so much. Is it an incomplete portion of the story told from a skew? Absolutely. And is there still someone watching over them? T’would seem so. The whole World, even. Beyond Chuck.

Now the point at which we start blocking off issues of “eugenie writes like she’s 3″ is where we ask about things like “god power” or whatever else being thrown in the mix along with eugenie’s ki ball special effects that are literally always unique to her episodes, even if other people have to add the SFX.

So while it was a good bit of masterful work to do it via buckleming for this style of bump, it still inevitably has its flaws because... buckleming. But... Showalter was there. And one thing to note is almost every single scene entrance had some sort of major pan or zoom effect. That’s not typical for him.

The entire thing is designed to evoke, directorially:

One style: crooked shots, unlevel, unbalanced, uneasy feeling.

Second style: Over-under; some force is watching them on high, while others have a sort of brechtian absurdity, which seats it like a play on an elevated stage.

We are the audience, looking up at figures half the episode; but a second audience is looking in from “on high” and out over the world. As if perhaps even from the heavens.

Third style: CSI Miami, basically? Parts of this episode were sectioned off to be like a procedural crime drama in its cinematography and flashbacks. Which is ironic, because Dean loathes procedural dramas, but at the same time some of this fandom demands a procedural monster show instead of a family drama show.

Sam and Dean barely have any lines in the episode *until* we hit Crime Drama Time. Then suddenly, they reveal all of their case work. Despite Dean’s hatred of crime dramas, this is honestly when I feel like the brothers kicked in their own pen.

Let’s play a game-- the winchesters are aware they can write their own story. So they start telling the story they think people want to hear, or maybe just fill in the gaps from when Chuck gets dropped on his ass. Maybe Dean’s the one writing about how many times god punched them in the face whereas Sam is breaking down the crime scene investigation front. Another, where it feels like we’re loosely circling the war table as others lightly wander too.

But everything before that is the first and second style, and even after that, the overview-angle remains. The uneasiness is gone but there is an emptiness otherwise. But we are no longer spectators from beneath the stage, but staring into them.

I still very much expect everyone to “die” one more time and several specifics to choose to walk back into life at the end of it.

Is it a *complete* false narrative? No. We’re not just gonna turn around and be like “oh that whole ep didn’t happen.” But the writer lost his pen and got jacked at one point, while we also observed the stage from a series of angles as different audiences.

Riddle me this: Why show the World? “Because it’s empty and just them!” okay but there’s a lot of ways to show that which actually gets that point a whole lot better across than “here, here’s a planet that still looks lit up”--yes I know electricity is still running until stuff runs out but essentially speaking, the end of the episode shows us the kind of dramatic shots that could be used for that.

CASey just poofed in the World in the TV, seems legit.

Let’s see these overhead angles again, knowing it isn’t just Chuck.

This sort of overview is known for causing a “dollhouse effect” that derealizes the episode and makes them seem, well, like toys. Which is interesting. Because Chuck isn’t the only one watching them on high.

Cool, this is fine.

Either way, the entire episode is DESIGNED to cause some major uncanny valley. There’s a lot of parts that simply *haven’t been told or filled in.* It’s almost like evasive maneuvering, half the content just never made it to print, and what did wasn’t in its best draft. There may be battling authors, or a transition of authorship. But the thing is: this is not the complete story.

There is an entire missing section about Sam and Dean even finding out that Jack is a power siphon which they hadn’t witnessed yet much less arranged an entire plan.

Even Chuck’s episodes are generally told from the general POVs of the Winchesters, but this was absolutely not.

Matthew 28: 18: And Jesus came and spake unto them, saying, All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth. Put a pin in that one.

Unless CHUCK IS WRITING HIS OWN FAKE DRAMATIC END, the overhead view, however, IS NOT CHUCK PERSPECTIVE.

-- Regardless, the metaness of “fish in a toilet bowl BRL plot” stacked into this makes it very difficult to accurately decipher the lines, especially with only one watch so far--just skimming back through right now to grab a few things I remember.

Some parts are plot salad buckleming.

Some parts are us as forced spectators of a stage play.

some parts are shifting authorship

Some parts are the heavens looking out over the earth it loves.

------

It almost feels as if, within enclosed spaces, unsteadiness and stageplay, we have Chuck’s POV.

But by the end it ceases to have any relevance, as he is no longer the author, and instead, we have the Presence of Being overseeing them, letting the Winchesters argue for their own proverbial pen in their own storytellings between here and there.

ALTERNATE PROPOSAL:

it is all one point of view. All of it. Pretend you’re someone’s eyes on a situation, you just happen to be in the sky half the time, and the uncanny valley is pulling forward the concept of being a presence that simply isn’t *there.* For example we're looking extremely closely at passed out dean but the camera turns and raises to level with Sam before Dean gets up. Our viewership lens is rising to meet Sam.

The camera stays in motion to fill a role or slot of a viewer. At first it’s haunting and ominous, but at other times, it’s simply part of the room, when it isn’t hovering from on high. Rather than speaking of empty space, we are viewing The World through that empty space, as if it were a Being.

Just a few more eye catching shots.

But whoever or whatever frames the end, even without Chuck--like the story is still turning on the pages, roughly.

The montage at the end feels like the Swan Song one, more or less, but there’s no narrator, no chuck.

The writer, the writer we know at least, is Absent.

Men are writing their own Stories.

But they aren’t alone.

I know how you see yourself. Angry and dark like your father. You think that’s what you are. But you are the most loving man in the whole world. That is who you are.

Someone does care. Even if right now, Sam and Dean don’t feel like anyone does.

...Because of you. I cared. For you, for Sam, for Jack, for the Whole World.

I cared.

“That’s not who I am.”

I am.

I speak therefore I am.

#supernatural #spn #15.19 #meta #my meta #the world #world #absence #being #polol

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heli0s-writes · 4 years

Text

pagan poetry*

A/N: Hey-o! After nearly 3 months of being a complete disaster, I ... did a thing. Very much my usual brand of filth. Thanks for sticking around as I continue to navigate this impending sense of oblivion!! 1.6k words of bangin’ Bucky Barnes. Yeeeeeeahhh.

Title is from this song, by Bjork. 🖤

Warnings: Smutty smut and heathen shit, what else is new with Helios?

brooklyn after dark masterlist

Steve asked if you were religious once.

It was an off the cuff kind of question, prompted by something you can’t remember now—silly banter over drinks and a background party, perhaps. Both grown weary of entertaining a crowd of strangers, etiquette spent nearing the night’s end. You’d shrugged lazily and prefaced that it’s hard to shake an entire childhood of indoctrination but now, by resolute choice, you aren’t.

You lied. You’ve never been more devout.

It was easier than getting into all the semantics, anyway. Where would you start explaining that you now spend more time than ever at worship? Not in the middle of Tony’s so-called “small” get-together of “only” seventy-five people. Certainly not a place to admit to Steve that your knees supplicate more earnestly than the most pious of priests, your throat constantly pouring the sweetest profession of faith—the name of the most divine.

Even if the two of you were somewhere more private, and he was at least half as drunk as you were, it’s a bit blasphemous, Steve, that you fuck Bucky six ways to Sunday and call it religion.

It’s a hard desire to curb when he looks like that. Bucky’s built like a god— his arm the kind of weapon you’d happily split your tongue polishing. Strong, powerful legs. Broad shoulders like lovingly carved marble, worked between the hands of a Renaissance master, tapered sharply down to his wasp’s waist.

His hips. Lord, you could dedicate eternity naming every last inch of his hips.

Such a pretty boy. How he makes you hungry to sin.

“Bucky,” you whisper, enthralled again when he steps out from a quick shower. Smoldering and glorious, and you’re Joan of Arc constantly being descended upon by a burning archangel. Some random night, like any other night, and you’re overtaken again. Hazy with orange glow, the billowing mist makes a halo to crown him and for a second you feel blind.

Then, you feel… hm.

Wet.

He cautions the way you chew on your lip, eyes twinkling brightly because what else is new. You? Turned on? Bucky could be brushing his teeth and you’d start climbing him like your personal jungle gym.

“Sweetheart,” he begins warily, adjusting the towel on his hips—those beautiful, beautiful hips. “One more dinner with us swinging in late and they’re gonna stop inviting us.”

You nod along dumbly, deaf now and set on a singular mission. Crawling on your knees, you reach Bucky halfway as he tries to put an end to your pilgrimage. Tries because your palms are fast over the damp fabric, fingers threading through warm fibers before landing flat against his abs, feeling up to his chest, murmuring stupidly, always so shocked at his everything. You graze up his wrists, his forearms, making paths of taut muscle.

“How bout after dinner?” His thumbs gently brush the swell of your breasts before he holds you back, straightening your spine when you arch into him. “Promise I’ll give it to you good later.”

“Give it to me now?”

He laughs. “You really gotta work on your negotiation skills…”

“Huh… Lemme try again: give it to me… right now?”

Bucky groans in equal measures of exasperation and exhilaration when you fall back on your knees. A few more half-hearted baby, quit it, ‘m serious, and then he gives up completely.

“Steve’s gonna get himself in a mood.”

“Steve’s always in a mood.”

Wilted protests quickly disappear into the hollow of your cheeks, licked away by your clever tongue. He grips the back of your neck firmly, tilting your head the way he likes best, eyes flicking down to meet yours before they close. He keeps you there a little longer, his toes curling into the carpet with each bob of your head.

“Yeah, you’re—always in a mood, too—uhhm—“

And you hum in agreeance, but the sound only vibrates into his skin, making him groan louder.

Bucky’s voice is slurred, as if half drunk. “Can’t hear— mm— you, sweetheart…”

So you make something up to give him what he wants, that buzzing of your throat on his cock, and his thighs tighten in response, the hand on the back of your neck reflexively scrabbling to your shoulder with a hard grip.

It’s a bit counterproductive of you to be so sloppy, considering that Bucky’s freshly showered and cleaned up— the scent of his brisk body wash strong and harsh in your nose— but fucking him like it’s your job allows some insight to what he likes, and it’s easily this:

Dirty, filthy, drooling wet blowjobs. The messier the better and the faster it gets him there. Your radiant Right Hand of God, but goddamn is he a little devil himself.

Bucky’s growling by the time he hauls you toward the bed, depositing your thrilled skin on the mattress firmly. Red lips meet yours with force, plush and full, nipping at the corners of your wet mouth like he’s kissing back every trace of him. He presses on across your jaw, up and down your neck. His voice is husky sweet and breathy in your ear.

“You bad, bad girl.” And you start curling yourself into him, nodding for more. One of his hands is working himself, the sound of your spit slippery in his fist. “You got me all messy again.”

Your skin feels blistering and freezing at the same time, chills racing to your fingertips tightly hooked around his biceps. The outfit you put on for a nice, quaint dinner at Steve and Sharon’s too heavy now, too constricting, but he doesn’t let you take it off.

“Every morning and night not enough dick for you, is it?” Bucky brushes your hands away, taking hold of your chin and peeling your head back until you’re looking at him. His pupils are blown wide, the only thing left of his irises are two thin rings of barely there blue as he scans your face. Your brain is short-circuiting, hanging onto every syllable, every purse of his cherry lips.

He switches on and off like a light. Beautiful, soft, thoughtful one minute, all force and darkness the next. You faithfully take it all, every facet of him. Your angel boy. Your wicked soldier.

Joan of Arc was only hallucinating, but she wasn’t half as lucky as you to have conjured something half as astonishing as Bucky. Gorgeous strong jaw, bristles along his chin and cheek scrubbing noisily against your lips as he kisses you. His mouth— open and wet, sloppy against yours— hardly landing right and you’re toeing delirium by the time his fingers slide up your shirt.

Bucky pushes you down into the sheets, rucking up your skirt until it bunches around your waist. “We’re in a rush, remember?” He tucks two fingers into the elastic of your panties and yanks them to one side. Just enough. In a rush. Your thighs meet with a determined shimmy of his hips— those incredible hips— and then you’re full, so full of him.

The blood in your ears crashes against reality and bends it all sideways. Not religious like that, but since the first time you’d touched him, you’ve been cocksure if heaven were real, it’d be this. It’d be him.

“Everyone’s gonna know,” Bucky promises, “You stumbling in there.”

The image flashes through your addled brain, the tell-tale sign of him screwing you stupid— lips swollen, legs wobbly, outfit crumpled up, smelling like him and sex in front of all your friends.

“You want it, don’t you, want them to know you’re all mine?” He smears your wet around the sides of where he’s connected— spit, slick— up to your clit. And then he pushes you like a button, flicking the pad of his thumb upwards and grins at the way you jerk in time to it like a trained toy.

“Bucky,” you mewl, “Buck.” The syllable breaks, your panting comes out in choked babbling.

He takes the back of your neck again, lowering his body over yours, faster now. Deliberately reckless and the entire bed is rocking, springs squealing under his pace.

“Oh my god,” you smash your brow into the junction of his shoulder, hanging on by a thread as he drives into you, on a mission to break either the bed frame or your brain, both were fine. In a rush. Can’t quit now. A little bit more. Your entire body is folded against him, insides fluttering desperately, maddeningly.

“Come,” he commands, “Come for me right now and I’ll fuck you through it, how you like. Then I’ll make you come again and we can go.”

His grip is tourniquet tight, thumb moving to the middle of your throat, pressing ever so slightly until your breath feels trapped under the swirl of his fingerprint. The curtain of his hair hangs over your face, blocking out the room going blindingly white. Your eyes shut tightly, opening only for a second to catch him panting over you, burning hot, his features flickering from utter control to trembling pleasure to something akin to frenzy.

Your vision shuffles like a deck of cards. His hands are everywhere. Eyes devouring every inch of your skin. There’s a million of him taking a million of you to a million more pieces. You shatter then, clawing his back and arms, singing like a fucking choir the infinity of his name.

Bucky. Bucky. Bucky. He makes your days holy. The altar of his body. The sacrament of his sweat. He breaks you apart into something luminous.

Religion. Not religion. Your heathen soul—whatever tiny fracture you may have—all his, forever. Now, tomorrow, at the end of the world.

So, when the two of you stumble into a nearly finished dinner, as predicted, over an hour late and in terrible disarray, Steve crosses himself before promising, “I’m getting you two a goddamn chastity belt.”

On the couch, Sam clicks the remote to a new channel, snapping his fingers with an offhanded, “A-fucking-men.”

All you can do is duck your head and grin.

#buck barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky #marvel #mcu #reader insert #fanfiction #smut

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dropsofletters · 4 years

Text

avenue of tears

— summary: listening to the latest album of the living daydream that is the drummer jeon wonwoo isn’t quite the best idea when, supposedly, it’s written about an ex. missing him to bits, she decides to plug in her earphones, and get lost in the words written by him, for her, perfectly put together to describe what was once broken…but can now be healed.

— title: avenue of tears — pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader — genre: drummer!au ; podcast host!au ; friends to exes to strangers to lovers!au — type: fluff ; angst ; drama ; humor ; suggestive ; romance — word count: 19,796

For the first time in her life, she can say she is happy while having a sore-throat.

Well, there have been other good times in her life that have included such a symptom—the after-effects of a concert, the times in which she really believed the vocalists of the bands she loved would end up looking at her and falling in love, or when she screamed out of joy, whether on amusement park rides or from pure happiness. Having a voice is enough of a gift; saying and speaking out our thoughts, the most divine of talents that one can possess. Using that voice for the first time in her own podcast is a blessing.

Though, no amount of throat-clearing can get the staff backstage to open up some space for her to walk in. In some parts of her life, being talkative does not compare to being loud, and this is one of those moments she wishes her throat wasn’t dry and in the need for tea, simply to shout to the slow walker in front of her just so she can get to her boyfriend faster. Perhaps, feel the roughness of his calloused fingertips rub against her palm when they hold hands, and he gives her one of those lazy smiles that beg for her to give him a kiss.

The room has gray walls, and around four bands have gathered in the same space. She smells everyone’s deodorants mingling together, and she doesn’t know if the stench is favorable or she’d rather not smell anyone at all, even if it’s not an unpleasant smell. Masculinity exudes from every band, lacking the female character that should exist in rock by now, but someone’s bleached blonde strands of hair, long enough to reach that person’s waist, remind her that there is a representative of female power in this giant gig for small bands.

The vocalist of Wonwoo’s band.

The chopped strands of her hair are, thankfully, long enough to welcome the rotten pair of scissors she uses before every show, not standing split ends, and also not standing the way she calls out her real name. You see, one year ago, the vocalist would’ve been called Eunkyung, with pretty straight hair in chocolate brown, curves covered in small sprinkles of ink, sporting a little black dress of a nice day, but that’s far from the case. Now, Eunkyung has taken up the name Love, an ode to what she hates the most, cutting her hair like she cuts the men out of her life, sporting leather pants and chains falling from her shoulders, cheeks hollowed in absolute distaste of the place she finds herself in, but quite enjoying the bottle of beer she brings up to her mouth.

“Eunkyung!” She calls out again, waving her hand in the air but not getting a reaction. Instead, she stops on her tracks, the sole of her boots barely lifting from the ground as her eyes scan the room. Eunkyung stands out because of her hair, but it’d be difficult to find Wonwoo’s dark head of hair. “Love!”

With the bottle of beer perched up between her rosy lips, Love lifts her hand in the air to greet her, trying to call her over only to stop her ministrations. The little ounces of oxygen left in her lungs ask to remain on her chest before she passes out, her white boots probably dusty by the amount of people who have stepped on her.

Love moves in between the groups of people, pushing people away with a force that could barely be contained in her tall body, never once letting a single droplet of beer fall on the floor. Just when she reaches her, Love wraps her fingertips around her wrist, tutting her name out in a raspy tone, perfect for the edgy tune in the new band. “Shit, what are you doing just standing there? Could’ve gotten your shit stolen.”

Her hand absentmindedly cradles the back pocket of her jeans. Her phone is still there, thankfully. “Sorry, didn’t know I was dealing with prisoners and not with rock enthusiasts.”

Love chuckles at that, now much different from the person she used to be, tattooed up to her neck, flowers blooming on the thin skin. If she looks from close enough, she believes her jugular palpitates against the dark ink. “Here, they’re about the same.”

Once they reach the corner the band had taken up, she finally gets a glimpse of people she has met. In Wonwoo’s apartment last year, for example, when a list of names had been written on a whiteboard and each sounded worst than the last. A man with a burgundy and green beanie sits with his bass on his lap, thin legs parted and yet, seemingly thicker because of his baggy pants. His head is thrown back, as if the chatter around him doesn’t distract him from his thoughts, looking ahead at the ceiling as if there’s something interesting on there. She really does look up, just in case Hansol has found the secret to life in that damned white ceiling.

The bassist doesn’t seem to be paying attention when she directs the question towards Love. “What did he smoke?”

Love finishes her beer in one go, patting her hand against Hansol’s leg before taking a seat on it. The two childhood friends had been the ones to start this whole band ordeal—and to be quite honest, it’s all thanks to them that Wonwoo got the guts to be in a band. Love’s Midnight may not be doing quite well right now, but it will someday. “Vernon didn’t smoke a thing. If anything, I’m the one looking for a smoke.”

“Weed’s bad.” Hansol, or by his stage name Vernon, says from his spot as he finally concentrates on the conversation at hand. His brown eyes seem gentle, even when his dark eyebrows join in a frown. “You’re gonna fuck up your voice.”

“So what?” Love asks.

“We don’t have a vocalist, then.” Hansol continues, pushing her off his lap to put his bass back inside its case, rubbing his sweaty palms against his black pants. “And we don’t have anyone to back you up. My singing is not as good. Andy’s singing is shit and Wonwoo sounds mysterious when he sings, but put him on the front of the stage and he’s going to black out.”

At the mention of her boyfriend, she can’t help but feel a smile creep up her face. Wonwoo was supposed to only be her little cousin’s drum teacher, a little part-time job he had to keep the dream alive, but one of those times her aunt couldn’t make it, she was asked to drive the little boy to class. There, Wonwoo captured her attention, and just before she left with regrets, she had slipped a paper with her number onto his palm.

And he had called.

And now, seven months later, they’re there. Coexisting in the same world, uniting their loose threads, and living out of it.

Well, he’s not there.

“Where’s Wonwoo?” She asks, resting her hands inside the pockets of her jeans, and a little grin appears on Hansol’s face at the mention of his name.

“He’s—”

Hansol’s deep and tranquil voice cuts short when an interruption comes through in the shape of the shortest of the band, purple hair done a mess and yet, matching with the hickeys trailing up his neck, doing his best to conceal it with the thick choker around his neck. Andy, the band’s guitarist, whose innocent features bring him just about any lover to his side, thinking he understands them, listens to them…but he’s a player.

And a damn good one, too. “Twenty bucks and I’ll tell you where he is.”

“Twenty bucks and you shut up.” Her tongue is witty enough to reply, and the sound of familiar laughter stirs her heart alive. When her hands spread on top of Andy’s shoulders, pushing him to the side to look for Wonwoo, she sees him nearing them, perhaps accompanying Andy in the process, black hair falling upon his forehead in sweaty strands, framing his elongated face, rounded ears, enigmatic eyes and tender, thin lips.

He gets closer, enough to wrap an arm around her and make her feel the coldness of the chains on his leather jacket, as dark as the rest of his outfit, but she knows the red shirt underneath is the tank top she bought him not too long ago. “Don’t give him your money. He’s a scam.”

“Girls don’t say that.” Andy shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest and gently rubbing the hickeys on his neck.

“I doubt they get to tell you anything at all.” She answers, twirling on Wonwoo’s arms until he’s hugging her completely, his taut chest breathing in and out, meeting hers in the middle. “There’s only so much you can know about someone while having sex.”

“Listen—”

Love stands up from her spot to wrap her arm entirely around Andy’s shoulder, smiling wickedly at the people in front of her. “Instead of arguing with our two lovebirds and the reason why our love songs are good, why don’t we look for a blunt?”

“Be careful out there.” Wonwoo conquers, lifting one of his eyebrows as if to question Love’s actions. The woman simply chuckles, already dragging Andy away for her.

“The only difference between a cigarette and a blunt is social norms, Wonwoo.” Love complies, clearly talking about the smell of cigarettes that breathes out in the aftertaste of the cologne and mint in him. He picked it up not too long ago, and hasn’t been able to get away from nicotine since then.

Hansol, once again too lost in his own world, doesn’t seem to notice—or mind—when her lips meet his in one of those brief dances of excitement, a smile barely able to conceal itself on her face when she looks into his glistening eyes. “How was the gig?”

“Tiring.” He answers, tugging at the collar of his leather jacket. “Love insists we have to look edgy, but this make me sweat buckets.”

“It makes you look hot.”

A tinge of pink creeps up his ears, smiling widely when he moves her from side to side. “What’s with all the love today? You’re awfully happy.”

How not to be so when she’s with him? Awakening to the sound of his fingers pattering against the counter of his kitchen, mumbling out the lyrics of the songs he is always writing. Wonwoo is not only a dreamer but a dream, a sight to look at and a potion inside her stomach. If she could, she’d throw up hearts at the mere mention of him, but the impossibility only further explains her infatuation for him. Love, love is this.

“Well…” She trails her voice, just at the same time that her hands take place by his abdomen, toying with the fabric there. “Did you listen to the podcast today? First episode early in the morning. Not a lot of people tuned in, but twenty is more than nothing, right?”

His black hair covers the darkness that looms over his eyes, lips faltering that smile to instead part delicately. Even his body moves away at the mention of the podcast, little droplets of sweat intensifying on his neck. “T-The podcast was today?”

A sigh leaves her before she could stop it. Forgetfulness is not his thing, but it seems to be today. “Yeah. I told you today before you went out to practice.”

“Shit, sorry.” Wonwoo lets his hand hover on her cheek, lips leaning forward to join hers, but she can’t even purse her own to meet him, leaving him with her blank expression instead. “I went to the gym after practice, and then I was too busy to actually listen—”

“You decided to go to the gym instead of listening to the podcast I have been working so hard on?” Nights spent listening to her favorite albums, preparing topics and asking Minghao to help her achieve the best quality in sound. Publicity done just about everywhere, asking her close friends and family to listen. Twenty people had listened, and none of them was Wonwoo. Her boyfriend.

“It was a mistake.” He whispers, like the boyfriend he is, not forgetting to pour all his emotions out in the pout of his lips. Giving her another kiss, she wants to stay angry, let the pits of hell stay inside her, but his eyes glimmer as if he means it when he promises: “Maybe, next time I will listen, okay?”

Maybe. A relationship should not be gray; it’s either black or white, it’s yes or no, never an in-between. Never a maybe.

But she takes it, because Wonwoo is just the type to say things without thinking. His ‘maybe’ may mean ‘certainly’.

His ‘maybe’ may mean ‘I’m sorry’.

Or it just is meaningless. Not ‘maybe’ at all.

###

Pen to paper. Cigarettes to lips. A mess done person, or a person done a mess.

The press has met the man that she has loved for over eleven months, and yet, she feels like each article that gets out about Love’s Midnight just makes her know the people in the band a lot less. This thought crosses her as her feet come in contact with empty bottles of soda, thrown across the floor of the hotel room they rented for their first real gig. Wonwoo’s cigarettes have been his lover for the night, as well as his lyricism notebook, but Andy seems to be having other ideas in the cheap room next door. It may be just some hooker, but something in her gut tells her that the lack of Love on the afterparty gives her an indicator of who it may be…

The reaction is long gone when she closes the door behind her, sporting her best dress—the one Wonwoo always talked about, the one that had his eyes lingering on her legs a lot longer than necessary, unable to keep his hands off her waist whenever she used it. The attention from him was well received, and yet, it was lacking tonight. The lonesome yellow of the lightbulb in front of them flickers, her heels click against the tiles on the floor, and he doesn’t even pull away from his notebook, humming out the notes to the song he is writing. At least, he’s not the one with the hooker.

But, what kind of thought is that?

It’s not the kind of idea she’d normally have about Wonwoo. Her Wonwoo, all rock songs but soft heartened words. Yet, with each passing month of his newfound stardom, she sees him less. Feels him less. Talks to him in ways that feels as though he is a stranger, and not the kind that wants to meet her. Definitely not the interested strangers they were in the past, the reason as to why they fell in love.

The lighter in between his fingers basks the cream walls in a faint light, the first smoke of the cigarettes leaving his lips and then, he keeps his hand up, a little bit twisted to keep the ashes away from his notebook. She moves closer, the back of her thighs meeting the edge of the bed when she calls out his name. Nothing. Wonwoo feels like nothing these days.

There, in a pretty dress, and yet not of his liking, pushing the pink fabric to fit more of her body, like a woman in her honeymoon. Insecurity latches to each portion of her uncovered skin, clearing her throat to catch his attention as she rests her extended palm on his back.

The toned muscles seem to welcome her touch, but his face remains stoic, hair standing out in various spots, dark eyes packing worries inside his heart. “Wonwoo?”

“Baby, I’m busy.” Annoyance exists in his tone, though it’s almost imperceptible. These days, all his feelings seem to be this way—happiness is the same as sadness, as annoyance and worry. Wonwoo is just a blank canvas, and she can’t seem to paint him. “Can’t seem to finish writing this song.”

“Maybe, it’s just not a good song.” The words don’t come out in the way that normally would. He has been talking about this song for three days, maybe it’s about time he drops it. Maybe, it’s time for them to drop this strange silent treatment between them—

“What?” Finally, he looks over his shoulder, his lips barely wrapping around the cigarette before each blow of smoke is thrown her way with his words. “What do you mean the song is not good? You haven’t even heard it.”

“If you can’t write it, it’s because you’re not inspired for it.”

His eyebrows raise up at that, taking his notebook in between his finger and stomping his cigarette against the bedside table, perhaps leaving it for later. He turns on his back, on the verge of becoming silent again, when he stops tapping his pen against the notebook. “What do you know about music anyways? It’s not that easy to write a song.”

A laugh escapes her nose, because she’s not half happy at the man in front of her. “The podcast I have, the one you don’t listen to, talks about music and I have a minor in something music-related. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“I listen to your podcast.” Wonwoo defends, letting the notebook rest on his taut abdomen as he lifts his hands to rub at his eyes. “I just don’t have enough time to listen to you talk for more than an hour—”

Her legs can’t seem to stay still then, standing up from her spot on the bed and making sure to pull her dress as far as possible. Somehow, being looked at by Wonwoo at this moment feels absolutely horrendous. Earlier this afternoon, she would’ve loved to have his hands all over her, his lips mouthing the things he loves the most about her. Right now, he’s impossible. “Isn’t that what a boyfriend should do? Listen to his motherfucking girlfriend?”

“I listen to you, oh my God!” He throws his head back, covering his face with his hands before sighing. “Babe, you’re being irrational. You come in here and tell me my song sucks, and now you’re making this about our relationship?”

“Well, you were the one that told me I didn’t know anything about music.”

Wonwoo stops for a moment, uncovering his face to look at her with what seems to be despair. “Then, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Her heels click harshly with each step she takes towards him. “You can’t just say sorry like you’re bored. Saying sorry has to be meaningful.”

“That’s just how my voice sounds.” But she knows that’s not the case. Deep, tranquil, that’s his voice, but that doesn’t mean it’s not meaningful. That doesn’t mean he can talk to her in a way that feels as though he has never loved her.

“No, that’s not how your voice sounds—”

“Babe—”

“Wonwoo.” She closes her eyes tightly, kneeling to take the empty bottles of soda in between her hands. “Who are you and what did you do to the man I fell in love with?” The question is rhetorical and not meant to be answered as she continues: “You’re messy and uninterested, this is not—”

“Maybe, if you let me speak, I’d be able to tell you what’s wrong with me.”

“Oh, so there’s really something wrong?” Far too entranced in her anger, she crosses her arms over her chest. “Is it me? Am I the wrong thing in your life?”

“When you get like this, maybe.” Wonwoo conquers, standing up and taking the resting empty bottles of soda before sighing. “Hey—”

“No. Repeat that.”

“Give me a break.”

She takes him by his arms, then, his tank top moving with the motion as she makes him turn towards her. Tired eyes to tired soul. One for him. One for her. “You really want me to give you a break? Because I could totally leave you if that means you being happy.”

Wonwoo has always been a selectively silent man. His lips don’t part unless necessary. He loves being a listener, not a talker. She wishes he would’ve stayed silent that night, but he didn’t, instead frowning deeply as he pushed his body away from her. “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t listen to me. So, maybe, it’s better if we give each other a break, don’t you think?”

She has to scoff, pulling her dress further down her thighs as it had ridden up, yet not once breaking eye contact with him. “Why call it a break? Why don’t we just break up and that’s it? Call it fucking quits so you can go fuck some other chick that actually listens to you, baby boy?”

“Don’t talk to me like that.” He answers, shoulders rising and falling as he gets closer to her. “Don’t talk to me at all if you’re going to be like that.”

“Well, tough luck. That’s just how I am.” Her voice drops a few octaves, pushing at his chest to get him away from her. His eyes seem to change, then, ever so present in his feelings, burning through him when he calls his name and tries to reach for her, but she is halfway through the room when his skin barely grazes her.

“Baby—”

“Don’t you fucking touch me. Don’t you talk to me. Don’t look for me. Don’t…” Her voice breaks then, breathing out slowly when her hand comes in contact with the handle of the door. “Don’t, Wonwoo. Just don’t.”

“Hey, sorry, you know I love y—”

“Don’t.” She whispers, loud enough for him to hear when she opens the door. Why is that, even when the air in the corridor feels fresher than the one basked in cigarettes in this room, she feels more suffocated when she leaves?

Right, because she never listened to him.

And he never got to talk honestly to her.

###

“Listen, you’re a podcast host. I think you should really leave the coffee aside and go for tea and honey.”

One of the biggest wonders in this world is how in hell Minghao’s blonde strands of hair seem to be soft even when he dyes it continuously. The other wonder is how such a sweet voice like his seems to have the pointiest of remarks just at the tip of his tongue. Perhaps, that’s why Minghao is the tech of her podcast, and not a host to be exact. He’d be far too honest about the newest releases in music. What she’d call ‘something different yet not tasteful’, he’d call it ‘absolute garbage taken out of the trash, eaten by a dog, and then thrown up onto the floor’.

But hey, that’s just Xu Minghao.

Twirling on his chair, he writes something down on their shared document for this week’s podcast, two years on the run and yet, doing better than ever. Thousands of listeners check up each week, either on YouTube or on Spotify, to tune in and talk about the newest music dropped into the world. Mostly rock, but she doesn’t forget some other genres if they catch her attention enough.

He runs his fingers through his hair, leaning back on his seat and parting his jean cladded legs, fixing the plain yet expensive t-shirt resting on his slender body before she responds. “Get on with your life, Hao. If I don’t drink coffee, I could totally die.”

“Stubborn as ever, I see.” Minghao tuts, lifting his cat-like eyes from the screen just as he clears his throat. “Your kidneys are the ones dying.”

“As long as it’s not my vocal cords, we’re fine.”

“You’re not going to die because of lack of caffeine. That’s just stupid.” Yet, his eyes keep concentrating on the screen, organizing both good and bad albums to talk about, maybe a sprinkle of singles here and there as not to make the podcast too long. However, just as the straw of her iced coffee meets her lips, Minghao’s face stands out in their office setup, widening his eyes at what he sees on the screen. “You’re going to die because of this, though.”

Exaggerations are not his thing. That’s why he is so poised even when the audio cuts off, or when her voice breaks. Nothing impresses him, nothing leaves an imprint on him, so her body moves to his side before he could completely finish his sentence. “Why? Why? Why? Why would I die?”

Minghao doesn’t let her look at the screen of his laptop, instead reading out the title of the article he read online for her. “Love’s Midnight has released a new album after their one-year hiatus. The drummer, Jeon Wonwoo, surprises with his songwriting skills in their new project: Valentine. The release date is next week and…” Minghao turns to her then, eyebrows lifted as he inspects her features. “Apparently, it’s an ode to a past lover.”

It’s been two years since she opted to never hear those names again. Love’s Midnight. Jeon Wonwoo. Even Eunkyung, Hansol and Andy had been completely eradicated from her thoughts.

Valentine, perhaps because they had gotten together on February, but what are the odds of Wonwoo actually writing a song about her? An album, at that? He had never reached out, not by hand, not by text, not by a single call. Wonwoo had dissipated after a few missed calls, as if he had given up, and it was for a cause.

“Well, we��re not talking about their album next week.”

Minghao shakes his head harshly enough for a few strands of his hair to jump at the motion. “We have to. Love’s Midnight has been huge for the past two years,” The lack of her in their lives must have been the reason of their success. All friends of hers, now nothing in comparison. “And with the departure of Andy and the entrance of lady-killer Hoshi into the team, we better have all the fangirls tuning in for our podcast.”

Andy. The innocent features, short height, the banter in between them. She had not even gotten to know he had left. “Why did Andy leave?”

“Ooh, messy stuff.” Minghao conquers, not one for gossip, but one for knowing it all. “Love and Andy were dating since the start, right?” Now, that’s not the story she knows—Andy and Love were pals for lust, but they were never really a serious thing. “They broke up. Andy departed because of how difficult it was to be around her, and that was it for them. That’s why the hiatus happened, but now Hoshi joined them.”

“Who’s that Hoshi dude?”

The tech turns to his laptop, writing down the name quickly on the search before an image popped up in front of them. Pierced ears, rounded cheeks and sharp eyes, all highlighted by makeup on his cheeks to make him glisten like the sun, the thick eyeliner matching his leather jacket and his pushed back hair full of gel. He seems to be blonde in that picture, but in the one next to it, his hair is darker, playing guitar on stage with Love, who’s singing in the microphone. Skinnier than ever, with her eyes hollowed out and yet, the smile never leaves her face.

“I see,” She starts, pushing her body away when she sees a glimpse of Wonwoo with his hands up in the air in the back, ready to smack his drums again. “We’re not talking about them, though. I don’t care about anything Jeon Wonwoo can write.”

But her heart picks up just at the mere sight of him. Would he be alright? His health, fine? His lungs still working perfectly or is he still in the way to addiction to nicotine? Does the loneliness still haunt him at times in the middle of the night, or has he found someone else already?

“Don’t be like that,” Minghao states, rolling his eyes at her. “It’s just an album, and you haven’t listened to their music in a while. It was two years ago, I’m sure it will be fine.”

“What if it is about me?”

The question haunts her, makes her feel insecure in a way that she hasn’t felt in a while. Maybe, she fears to know what he really wanted to say—the regrets or the acceptance, the things he felt. If it made him happier or sadder. If he, to this day, hasn’t been able to love someone equally as much as her, because she knows she can’t. No man can compare to the fluttering feeling that came with him. “It’s just a few songs. I think not all of them are about you. Besides, it can be any past lover…and I’m sure you weren’t Wonwoo’s first girlfriend.”

Not his first love, and definitely not his last. A sigh leaves her lips as she crosses her arms over her chest. If she spoke about his album, maybe she’d prove to herself that he was wrong. Music exists in her blood, she acknowledges it as part of her, and he can’t tell her that she doesn’t know what she’s talking about anymore.

“I’ll give it a listen once it drops out.”

With a dizzy smile on his features, Minghao claps his hands in excitement. “Well, look who made you agree to something for the first time in his life.” Sending his two thumbs his way, he chuckles. “This guy.”

###

Being the center of attention has never been of his liking. It’s not the thing Jeon Wonwoo is known for, but it’s the thing their publicist wants him to do.

Flashing lights end up all over him, makeup-less and yet, not caring that he is showing every imperfection on his skin. He cares about what he has to say, though, to take out the buried memories of a past love just for the sake of an album, or for healing. The documentary they’re doing about Love’s Midnight, however, is another ordeal he can’t seem to understand. Not quite feeling connected to the camera in front of him, the white background, the staff that gather as if they want to listen to him. They don’t.

Hansol is somewhere by the corner, getting his makeup taken off for his own interview—people want it to be realistic, or so they say. Somewhere around the room, Love is singing at the top of her lungs—not reaching those notes that had once been the point of her knowledge, but still sounding like an angel sent from heaven. Hoshi is the only one nearby, seated with his legs crossed, looking at Wonwoo in understanding. Not equally as introverted, but somehow capturing the essence of dread in Wonwoo’s soul.

He shrinks into himself, each curvature of his muscles hidden by his posture, though the tank top on him does nothing to conceal what he knows will get him compliments, but never too meaningful. He sends a smile to one of the staff members that passes by him, fixing the lights one last time and asking him to take off his glasses. He does, never the type to say no.

“So, Wonwoo…” The cameraman says from his spot, learning his questions like the palm of his hand, and no amount of preparation and knowledge could’ve prepared him for the question thrown his way. His mind knew it was going to happen, but much like a teenage student in high school, he didn’t prepare. “What’s this album about?”

Her.

It’s not a ‘what’, it’s a ‘who’.

It’s his February 21st, his little memory in a pink dress, his ode to the drums, the reason why he sometimes touches the piano in hopes of composing a song. The only smile he can’t seem to remember perfectly, from the shade of her lipstick to the way her lips felt against his. The little smile she gave him after their first kiss, the way she called out his name, the only ode he has been able to give to the world…his memories of her.

“It’s about love, heartbreak, healing. All of the like.” He says, clearing his throat soon after, only to watch the cameraman move his hands, instructing him to say more. His eyes close for a second, letting out a breath that mingles with an uncomfortable laugh. “It’s about someone I loved dearly. Someone I don’t want to forget.”

“What did you love about them?”

“Pardon?”

“What did you love about them?” The cameraman asks, and Wonwoo has to lean back on his seat to capture the gasp that was about to leave his lips. He was never one to say it much—those three words that would have otherwise made her feel better. She’s talkative, he’s not.

What did he love about her?

Was it the love that she made him feel? Was it the movement of her hips, the shape of her lips, the way she spoke about her issues as if the world was falling down on her? Was it her enthusiasm, her happiness—?

“That everything about her made me want to be a better person.” His head nods once, twice, trying to further convince himself that it’s okay that he doesn’t have her. She’ll always exist in his music, in his rhymes, in his handwriting as he gives another poem to her—another melody to cherish her. “She was the only woman I ever imagined myself loving for a long time.”

Yet, he can’t clean up the mess they made. Can’t return to the avenue they left abandoned because it had taken too long to get to their goal. With one last breath, he hears another question:

“Care to explain some songs to us?”

But the words never come to him. They didn’t back then, they don’t now.

###

Okay, an album. She has listened to thousands of those, maybe even millions. It shouldn’t be an issue for her to sit down in front of her computer, plug in her earphones, and just let the melody of Love’s Midnight songs fill her eardrums with absolute bullshit. Cheesy love bullshit that never happens.

But this is not yet another album.

This is an album about her.

Minghao could be right, though. What are the odds of Wonwoo actually remembering her, much more in the form of lyricism? This thought is what has her pushing her earphones inside the laptop, sighing deeply as she presses play. The introduction shouldn’t be that difficult to listen to, and the artwork is simplistic, something of the like of a sunset merging into artwork in its abstract form. It feels romantic, but it isn’t about her.

The first song changes it all.

The first track of nine has Love’s strong vocals, reaching her high notes like they are part of her voice, slow and steady with that edge of slow rock, a plea for a lover to trust them even when they don’t seem to be showcasing their truest intention. A fool, the song speaks about over and over again, blaming themselves for not being able to point out their realest feelings to their lover.

The bass is heavy on the second track, and Hansol—Vernon, in this case—hasn’t lost a single ounce of his talent to fame. Metaphors speak about Wonwoo’s growing love for literature, grieving the end of a relationship and cladding it in pride. A man who can’t seem to understand the finalization of his relationship, covering it with more wrongdoings, and yet, begging for another yesterday, another chance. Something that has her tightening her hand against her heart, listening to Love’s voice dragging feelings through the pits of hell.

The third track is the one she likes the least, and it’s the one that seems to be the most about her. Talking about smiles, laughter, reminiscent of times much happier and yet, mixing a sound that she would’ve never imagined from Wonwoo’s band. It feels like she is walking on the streets of Madrid, waiting for a lover, letting the Spanish guitar pull her in only to dizzy her. Far too happy. Far too difficult to understand with their bitter ending.

The fourth track feels like him, enough for her fingers to hover over the space bar to pause it a few times. Slow, steady, and the pain of the break-up is felt through every single note. Loneliness haunting, drowning and drowning him into this pit of nonexistence. Love’s voice seems to fit every feeling, and she wonders if it’s just her amazing way of portraying sentiments, or it’s common for people to go through so much pain.

Fifth track, and the echo of it makes her feel even lonelier in her room, leaning back on her gray bed and fluffy pillows to close her eyes lightly. Drunken feelings, it speaks about, a man in the middle of a party with the smell of smoke clinging to him, speaking his feelings into the microphone as if they come directly from his heart, remembering how his life seemed to be easier, much easier when it was simpler. The minimalistic whisper coming from Love’s voice indicating: “I’m good, what about you?” in such a broken tone has her sending a weak smile to the air.

She’s not half as good as he is.

Insecurities seep through the sixth track, and her back cracks by the time she moves again, wanting to hear this from up close. This past lover comes haunt him in his dreams, and he only wonders if they’re happy. The sixth track is far more commercial than the rest, reason as to why it doesn’t surprise her it’s the one, they dropped with a music video she has yet to see. The allegories indicate that this lover, maybe, has found someone else, and the thought alone makes them sleepless. Insomniac. Saddened.

Huh, wouldn’t even surprise her if Wonwoo was the one that found someone else. Each of her dates have ended in her going home without a single kiss, not wanting to have anyone but him.

The seventh track shows Wonwoo’s talent by the drums perfectly, upbeat and coming directly from the 80’s, Love doing her best to portray the meeting of two lovers and the immediate chemistry between the two. A pink dress is mentioned, and the only thing she can do is purse her lips together.

Fuck Xu Minghao.

Fuck him for making her listen to this motherfucking album.

Fuck that pink dress that she keeps in her closet.

The piano on the eighth track takes her breath away, far more heartfelt than anything they have ever done—far more mature than anything she would have imagined from Wonwoo’s little band. The fear of losing someone, one last goodbye, the speech through a break-up. It speaks about turning and twisting, about running out of things to say and saying the worst ones. Tears gather by her vision when she hears that female voice speaking all the pain, she has gathered in her heart for only four minutes. It feels like a lifetime.

Getting Wonwoo to sing for her was difficult. It’d have to come after long conversations, when he was really tired, or when she couldn’t sleep. His voice in the last track was unexpected, so much that she wouldn’t even be able to recognize his voice if only she had not listened to it for almost a year of her life, every single day. His deep tone breathes out words of wanting someone back, but not knowing if he should trust his heart or his brain. Starting slow and then building up to a pop beat, it’s a nice song to snap fingers to, yet, she can’t bring herself to do anything but stare at the screen.

He’d still try for her, he says. In some point of his life, or when he wrote this song, he wanted her back.

He’ll always want her back with him.

And it’s with that thought that she closes her laptop, breathing out harshly at the same time that she texts Minghao.

To: Hao.

I hate you for making me listen to this album.

Track number three sucks ass.

Yet, her fingers hover over the search bar, letting the line tickle the write surface with its glow before she is writing down his name. Jeon Wonwoo, but with an addition—girlfriend, she wants to know who this could be about if it’s not about her—

The first pictures that pop out break her heart in a million pieces only to deliver it across the world as a souvenir. Wonwoo is getting out of a party with some model by his side, long dark hair cascading down her back, a little black dress cladding her elongated body, shiny legs in display as a shy smile creeps up her red lips.

Want you back my ass.

Maybe, it’s this model he is missing.

###

Blue lights bathe his skin in its sinful glow, seated by the entrance of a bar. Their usual spot packs people as if they’re the box of cigarettes on his coat’s pocket, one long stick of nicotine dangling from his lips only to be lit up by someone else. Some of the people gathering around him, perhaps, or the femme voice that has been asking him personal questions for the past hour. Short answers have escaped him, but seeing how risqué they are getting and how uncomfortable he is, he can’t bring himself to care.

Tonight, he’s supposed to celebrate the release of Valentine, his newest album. The happiest night of his life, it must be, but it’s far from that. Droplets of champagne pour from the ceiling, cheers being heard as yet another electronic song plays in the background. Eunkyung is lost in God-knows-where, Hansol has embarked in a conversation about the universe with a group of college students, and Soonyoung is dancing as if he doesn’t have a care in this world. He probably doesn’t, and that’s the dream.

It feels weird. Earning money and success from his sentiments should make him feel better—narcissistic in a way that fuels his ego, but only makes him feel as though the headlines are eating him alive. With each person that nears him, he feels more faux. A product, nothing more, nothing less, enough to be dismissed when he stands up from his spot, blowing out smoke into the condensed air. Some bump his side, staining the expensive leather of his coat, but the conceptualization passes him by quickly. At least, he gets to feel something.

Footsteps are heard beside him by the time he opens the door to the bar. If he’s lucky, he may get to go to his apartment, smoke another cigarette, and head to bed quickly. However, just when the black, sleek door slides from his fingertips to close it down, the flashes of cameras attack his features. Each regret is highlighted by yet another paparazzi throwing themselves at him as they ask the same old questions. The only thing that people seem to wonder about him.

“Who was Valentine about? Please, tell us the details!” One of them screams directly to his face, the microphone grazing his bottom lip and making him stumble back. He tries to smile, but the beam falls down by his fakeness.

“Wonwoo, over here!” One of the shortest interviewers says, waving his hand in the air to capture his attention. “Was it about Eunji?”

Right, Eunji. His publicist would love if he simply said it was about her.

The woman comes in the shape of a goddess, and the tremor of her voice brought a distraction for one night. A distraction, compliments that are void, words that did not have to have meaning, and the frustration of not being able to move on. Eunji said she understood—she, too, had been going through some kind of heartbreak and the relief was needed, but each text that came after said events went directly through his head and towards the deleted pile. One night was enough.

Blowing the air of his cigarette in the air, his mind desires to give the paparazzi what they want. Be the good boy he has always been in a band of people who have stood out for their unique qualities, but tonight, when it’s about her and the success tastes like blood and iron on his tongue, he doesn’t want to be who he used to be.

Jeon Wonwoo, did everything to be one of the most well-known drummers of the year, and ended up alone in the process.

“It’s just for someone, let me be.” He whispers, pushing through the seas of people with his bodyguard trailing right behind him. One good thing comes from fame, but just as he is getting away from the bar, the clicking of cameras still following along with the words from the paparazzi, he hears a lively voice cut through the air with worry.

“Wonwoo, what do you think you’re doing? That’s bad publicity.” Soonyoung speaks quickly, brushing his blonde hair away from his face to showcase his reddened face. The honesty must come from being a bit tipsy.

“Sorry.” It’s the only thing he can bring himself to say, because he knows it’s bad publicity, but isn’t it bad enough that people have been speculating about the muse behind his album? And none of the suppositions are right.

“Stop smoking and look at me for once.” Soonyoung indicates, and Wonwoo parts the cigarette from his lips for a second, quirking one of his eyebrows as they walk together. “What is going on with you?”

“I’m about to become a million seller by exploiting my past relationship and I’ve been getting more attention than usual in the process.” The night seems to swallow each and every single one of his worries, leaving him with a sigh. “I think I’ve just had enough.”

“That’s what happens, dude!” Soonyoung conquers, as if trying to make him feel better. His arm wraps around his shoulder, moving him from side to side. “You’ve done something great for our band, and you’ve been able to let go of all those pent feelings.”

Ha. That’s something he hasn’t done at all. How stupid does he have to be to be in love with her when it all ended so wrongly? Besides, it’s not like she would’ve waited for him—he was a dick, and she has all the reasons to find someone much better. The thought has him putting the cigarette up to his lips again.

“I suppose.” He shrugs, watching a limousine pull up not too far away from them. Since when did he forget about the existence of taxis and started to be too rich for his own good?

“The publicists are going to be so mad at you.”

Wonwoo stops at that, looking ahead and back, ahead and back, not knowing if he should move forward and drag himself to the past. Was it easier when no one cared? Is it easier now that he has all he ever wanted?

Was this all he ever wanted at all?

“Soonyoung…” He says those words into the air, playing a smile into his features as if he feels it. He doesn’t. “Can’t we just get in the car and not talk about this for a second? Let’s talk about any other band but Love’s Midnight.”

Something in the blonde man switches, opening the door to the limousine as he nods with uncertainty. He doesn’t like being looked at like that—as if he doesn’t know what he’s doing with his life…

Because it’s damn right.

But hey, at least he’s almost a million copies seller, right?

###

“Huh, I listened to an album this week,” Her voice drags with the continuation of her sentence, eyes trailing up until she meets Minghao’s, far too concentrated on the sound of her microphone, on stopping the echoes and making sure that those who tune in live do get to hear her properly. She has to muffle a laugh. Nervousness makes her sound stupid. “Well, duh, of course, I always talk about music and listen to albums…but I listened to a weekly favorite just last week.”

Each day has been worse than the last. The headache doesn’t leave her, finding herself humming the tunes to Love’s Midnight songs—that one song, the last track, keeps playing in her head as if she had been the one who composed it. Whatever. It happens. I’m sure most of the women in music who had songs written about them felt the same way. Maybe, Courtney Love felt like this. Could’ve been worse, at least Wonwoo didn’t pull a Lennon and wrote a song along the lines of “Dear Yoko”.

She fixes the beanie on her head, staring forward at the white doors of her office, the coldness seeping through her sweater, a shiver going down her spine. “It’s Love’s Midnight latest album, Valentine. You guys were recommending it a lot this week, wanted me to talk about it and all…” Her fingers start to play with the straw of her drink, trying her hardest not to take too many pauses. The podcast is live for some, after all. “And it’s here. I’ll talk about it.”

With the last ounce of sanity left inside her body, she takes a long sip of her drink, smacks her lips and starts pouring out her thoughts into professionalism.

“Track number three sucks. Sorry to anyone who is a fan, but track number three is the corniest, stupidest thing I’ve ever heard from them. No hate, just truth.” She lifts her hands in the air, watching Minghao lift his gaze to mouth something to her. Don’t, he says, and she remembers that was the last word she told Wonwoo. Fuck. “In all honesty, though, I liked the conceptualization of the album. I think that…uh…they could’ve added some spice here and there. Everything felt like a pile of heartbreak—”

The screen by her side lights up, showing up the live chat and the viewers speaking about the album.

Jeon Wonwoo wrote it for a past lover. He must be heartbroken.

Track number three is the best, though.

Finally, you’re talking about Love’s Midnight. Favorite band.

“But yeah, Love did amazingly with her vocals, contrary to what one would believe. She went to high highs and low lows, exquisite in her vibratos, that raspy tone of hers still captures everyone who listens.” Looking up at the ceiling, she swallows thickly. So much to say about nine tracks about her, and still the words don’t come out. “H—Vernon, he’s very good with the bass. You know, maybe our tech Minghao will agree with me on this, but Vernon is the one who makes the songs feel profitable, like it can be heard in a club, can be heard in the car, both adults and teens can like his sound. Definitely one of the pillars of the band, I think.”

Minghao nods his head from the booth, and she feels a little bit of warmth in the room. She’s not alone—if she fucks up, she’s not alone.

“Hoshi. Didn’t even know Hoshi was in the band until our tech told me, haven’t been really up to date with Love’s Midnight…” Because watching him play would only bring back the memories of the first time they met, the feeling of his skin tattered in tattoos under the weight of her hands, the tremble of his voice, the tender way he held her. Like she meant something. Like her words meant something. Until they didn’t. “God, his solos? He’s—I think in this era, in this generation of musicians, it’s impossible to stand out as a guitarist because there’s hundreds, thousands, millions of good guitarists. Haven’t seen Hoshi live, but I’m looking forward for the acoustic sets with his talent. Just from listening to him, I feel like he has real talent.”

Her eyes divert towards the screen, shaking a bit when she reads a question on her opinion about Wonwoo’s songwriting skills. There, she can imagine him sprawled on his bed, his notebook covering most of his face as he looks at her from the corner of his eye, sending a shy smile her way before venturing into a new world, writing her in it as if he cared.

Did he ever care?

“Ah…what I think about Jeon Wonwoo’s songwriting skills?” Saying his name out loud has her scrunching up her features. If she closes her eyes, he’s there, so she keeps them wide open. His voice calls her out—baby, baby, I didn’t forget you. “I think they could be better.”

It’s at this time that Minghao scoffs from his spot, shaking his head as he places his hands behind it. Liar, his pretty lips mouth at her.

“Wonwoo, whoever this album is about,” Me, she thinks, it’s about me and my stupid dumb smile when around him. My insecurities. My world. “I don’t know, it feels fake. Maybe, it’s just me…” Her voice trails for a second, shaking her thoughts out before sighing. “They’re good, they’re just not…you know, they’re not ‘album of the year’ worthy. He seems to be stuck in the same topic and I can’t judge his range if he’s only written about…one thing…you know, like—” Shit, she’s really digging her own grave right here. What is she supposed to say? That she liked it? “Like, yeah, we get it, you’re heartbroken…but, I mean, judging from what he has written in the album…he fucked up, too, you know?”

Maybe, she should just read some comments. Reassure herself that she’s not sounding like the one who had an entire album written about her.

Emo boy energy, doesn’t surprise me. Very Jeon Wonwoo-esque. One of them writes.

The drums were sick, though. Say hi to me, host!

People say it’s about Song Eunji.

Song Eunji. Model. Wonwoo’s latest known lover. The pictures flash before her eyes as she thinks about it. Maybe, it’s really about Eunji and not about her…

Why does the thought make her sadder?

“So, yeah, I’d give it an eight point seven out of ten. Favorite track is track number nine. Hoshi is the backbone of this band to me now. That’s it.”

Regret clings to her like a leech. Song Eunji. Jeon Wonwoo. An album. Failed dates. A broken relationship. Why is love always extra difficult for her?

###

“Come on, babe, lighten up.”

With rosy cheeks, her friend, Jade, speaks those words like there is enough space in this party for her to feel free. There isn’t, quite clearly, but Jade is on the brink of her youth, ready to mess up her long hair, get on some tables and drunkenly sing to the world, albeit a bit messily. Her family, all consisting of enormous classic musicians, rooted from the most intricate and exclusive of schools, would shake their heads at the sight of Jade, already rid of her shirt and practically dragging her body towards her to wrap an arm around her shoulder and keep herself steady. The bottle of champagne Jade had been drinking from is brought up to her lips, and she has to take a sip if she doesn’t want Jade to start whining in a high tone, able to break through the bass-boosted music in this club.

It’s Jade’s birthday, and Minghao is nowhere to be seen. He probably left early—her fault for trying to play matchmaker between Jade and Minghao over a year ago, but her apologies had never been enough for the awkward blind date she had set up for the two of them. If there’s one thing Minghao can’t stand is lying, and much more if it’s about his romantic life.

To be quite honest, she thought it’d be a match. Stylishly rich guitarist of a local band, Jade, and stylishly average tech of her podcast, Minghao.

Maybe, she was wrong.

“Shit, Jade—” She’s already taking off her jacket from her shoulders to drape it across Jade’s chest, who simply looks down at the fabric with a scrunch of her nose. “You’re on your bra.”

Jade chuckles sweetly, because inherently, she’s dulcet. The kind of girl that wipes your tears after a break up, lends you some powder after you throw up in a bar’s bathroom, and the one that just wants everyone to have a good time. Everyone including her. “Babe, it’s Victoria’s Secret. I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Everyone is going to see your nipples.”

“You know, it’s better for me to have two very healthy nipples than not have them at all. So, whoever wants to see, can see.” With that, her jacket is given once again to her, staring at Jade who brings up the bottle of champagne up to her lips, the pink liquid trailing down her cheeks and her chin. “Why are you here all alone?”

Because the music is shitty, Minghao is nowhere to be in sight, and Jade was playing a game of body shots not too long ago. College has been long dead for her since a while ago—and she doesn’t think she’d be confident enough to have someone drinking directly from her body.

Props to Jade, of course.

“Ah, maybe because I wanted to leave soon?” She asks, rubbing the back of her head to play with her messy ponytail. It had been sleek once, but being around this amount of people, dancing against one another, and trying to move through them while also avoiding anyone getting too close to her, was a difficult task that ended up getting her a bit riled up.

“Shut up!” Jade screeches, wrapping her arm around her once again and resting her cheek against hers. “Shut up, babe! You’re not leaving…anywhere…no.”

That’s the drag of her voice, the clear sign that Jade will be too drunk tomorrow, drunk enough for her not to remember if she leaves her alone here—

But shit, she can’t leave Jade alone. She’s shirtless, meaning that her Versace shirt must be somewhere on the floor, or covered in vomit, and she’s drunk. God knows what could happen if she leaves her alone.

“I’m not leaving you, don’t worry.”

“Yay!”

“But I should clean you up, you’re all sticky from the alcohol, Jade.” She replies, already making her way through the masses of people to find the bathroom. It must be by one of the corners, but she’s not too sure in this club. “Why did you drink so much?”

“Because—”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Just because.”

When the bathroom’s door is only a few meters away, she sees him. The song that is playing in the background is too robotic for anyone’s taste, but the one that plays inside her head is the one she mumbled to him before they fell asleep once.

‘Love of my Life’ by Queen.

Because if there’s someone that she loved in this world, in this hellish world that they dare call real life, it’s Jeon Wonwoo.

Closed eyes, head tilted back enough for his Adam’s apple to bob when he takes another drag of his cigarette. Nicotine is his lover for the night, while Love seems to tell him something angrily, fingers threading through her bleached blonde hair, dying at the number of products she puts on it, fried at this point. Wonwoo looks like himself, but he also doesn’t. She knows those black strands of hair, and how they curled against her fingertips when she tightened her hold on them after a kiss. Her mind recognizes those lips, now pink yet chapped, but when they wrap into an answer that blows the smoke into the air, he doesn’t seem like her Wonwoo. His eyes open, he stares at Love as he speaks to her, but Love’s eyes are already looking at someone else.

Eunkyung is calling out her name and there is nothing that seems to stop her as she stumbles away from her seat.

It’s at nights like these that she wishes to be forgotten. Get on a car, preferably old, drive until her feet hurt or until the gas runs low, wearing a thin jacket as she listens to classics. She’s tired of this new version of her life that she can’t seem to get used to. People that she thought she knew seem to be far too different now, with Eunkyung not existing when she reaches her and Jade. This is Love, the vocalist of Wonwoo’s band, with eyes so hollow she almost feels dead, and a mouth that wraps up in a smile that begs for a second chance.

Because everyone wants to go back.

But no one can.

“It’s been so long since I last saw you!” Love’s arms wrap around her to take her away from Jade, but her friend doesn’t seem to mind as she giggles mindlessly. Love’s hold is strong, calloused hands meeting her spine as she cages her face on her shoulder. There are tears there, an unspoken word, perhaps the need to feel like herself again. This is not Eunkyung. “Where have you been?”

“Somewhere. Always here.” She replies, pulling away and yet, capturing Wonwoo’s gaze in a single second. His eyes are already on her, twinkling heavenly in the pits of hell, and she has to give a step back to deny the gravity in between the two.

“Wonwoo’s over there. Let me call him over—!”

Little by little, she loved him.

And little by little, she shall erase the memory of him.

“No, sorry. Me and my friend are going back home.” She replies, wrapping her hand around Jade’s wrist, pulling farther and farther away from the people she had known the most. Yet, she doesn’t know them now. These people on world tours, selling millions of copies of their albums, making money out of their past…those are not people she had known.

And she doesn’t want to know them again.

Her feet bring her out of the club, and she swears she feels someone behind her, but with rushed steps the feeling becomes barely a ghost. Then, nonexistent. Finally, in the car she starts to think about it.

May the stars only know if it was him going after her.

###

With him, it always feels like one of both said something wrong. Or, rather, didn’t say anything at all.

What’s with her, this feeling of talking too much and saying too little? What’s the regret that overtakes her when her head leans back on her seat, listening to the song Minghao has put on per her request, played for their viewers and yet, not quite admitting to her most intricate of desires even on a verse? Her eyes stare at the ceiling, imagine him in front of his drums—imagine him calling her beautiful, holding her head, longing for her. All things she wants now, all equally as impossible.

A week since she last saw him, and she likes to believe Wonwoo went trailing after her. It’s the only thing that keeps her up at night—the questioning of reality and a dream. Maybe, he was never behind her—it could’ve been one of the partygoers, one of those drunken people that don’t know where to step, or it could’ve been him. Why does she feel her lungs relax against its own confines when she imagines him?

Because this is Wonwoo. The one who writes songs about her. The only man that she can’t seem to get over. Memories that come back all the time, because he’s in every single one of them. Wonwoo’s name spill from her tongue without knowing, his songs come to her in the shower without meaning to, and his scent is felt on every portion of her bed. He hasn’t been there in years, but it’s almost like he left only yesterday.

It was two years ago.

Two years, and she really should get over him.

Her eyes divert towards her computer screen, watching the messages pop in slowly before she sees a collection of digits. It’s a date—the date in which everything ended, continued by a text that has her mouth drying up.

I want to see you again.

It has to be a coincidence; it really has to be so. It could be that someone’s important date was two years ago, in that night in which everything ended. She sighs deeply, clearing her throat when the song finishes itself and she has to talk again.

“Well, now we have to talk about that album—”

Another message pops up, but it’s impossible. Wonwoo rarely listened to her podcast, and when he did, he never said anything.

Love’s Midnight album is about who you think it is about.

Please, let me see you again.

She wants to see him again, too. It’s that feeling that keeps her up at night—knowing he could be close, but never close enough.

“Ah, in case anyone comes across a bunch of messages in the chat about seeing me again. It’s just some ex.” She tries to chuckle, but her voice has long gone left for something duller, stranger, as if she can’t get used to talking when it’s about him. “Already seeing someone dude, sorry.”

Seeing who?!

Minghao lifts his gaze, his hat doing nothing to conceal the disappointment on his face. What can she do? Admit that she feels jealous whenever she hears those rumors about who the album is about? That she has looked at pictures of his possible lovers and yet, the feeling never quite settles well with her?

The last man she saw was a man of wealth—son of a record label owner, very much into music, yet not quite in a band or participating anywhere as a solo artist. Mingyu was a nice date; the kind that made her laugh, ate a lot with her, drank a good glass of burgundy colored wine with her…but he wasn’t a forever. Wasn’t even a kiss. Mingyu became a friend after, and then, she didn’t want to date again.

But it’s what she has to do. If Wonwoo can go date some Eunji, and possibly write one or two songs about her, she can date whoever…

Right?

Right?!

###

The documentary didn’t show exactly how Love’s Midnight came to be what they are today.

People love a good story. Movies are a profitable job because of that, and books keep on fueling fantasies for those who can’t live in a better world for the same reason. What happens is, if something is boring, people don’t care. There has to be sentimentalism; enough to move anyone to tears, or make them feel inspired. Everyone who has been legendary has gone through a story of pain, only to reach their best spot. There’s a downfall in between, but the point of union always brings the grand finale to life.

In reality, Love’s Midnight happened because of Hansol. Eunkyung, who now can’t seem to stand anyone calling her that name instead of Love, worked part-time in some bar downtown. The place was ratchet, with hidden call-people expecting someone to capture them for the night, some drunkards that got a little bit too loud, and the owner, who’d always thank Eunkyung’s presence, calling it Love’s Midnight whenever clients gathered around…because her drinks were that good.

Hansol said, as he happened to be sitting down in Wonwoo’s couch, that it sounded like a band’s name. Andy was there, too, partly rubbing the skin of his arm after getting his first tattoo, and also hardly listening—but it seemed to be fitting for him, to join their forces and make a group. Originally, Eunkyung was supposed to be a guitarist, but Wonwoo would not even dare step in front of masses of people to sing a goddamned song about love.

What did people who watched the documentary believe now? That it was because of Andy’s nickname to Eunkyung. Love, when they were lovers, and the midnights they spent together. It earns them more money, yes, but it’s also heavily exaggerated to have people asking for more. Andy and Love were one of the biggest couples years ago, after all, and people thirsted more and more for their little interactions, even if they were nonexistent at this point.

Luckily, Hoshi is now with them.

But people are now even more interested in the band, and the arenas for the concerts of their world tours have been selling like hot bread. The problem is that being in a van with his three bandmates gets more tiring with each and every day that they spend pretending to be people they are not. They have to be cool, edgy, attend parties when they are told to, drink alcohol like it’s water, talk like they think of themselves as the most mysterious in this world. He can’t even call Hansol his real fucking name without having one of their managers tug him by the arm and correct him to Vernon.

The news outlet displays itself on the television screen. Hoshi keeps strumming on his guitar, and Vernon doesn’t seem to mind as he lays sleepily on his bed, ready to knock off. Love is somewhere in the back with someone she met in the afterparty of the concert—some groupie that she can’t seem to get her hands off of. The worst part is that he can’t seem to continue writing this song for the next album, because a picture of him is displayed on the screen.

“Who do you think Valentine is about, Rose?” One of the hosts asks, moving her short hair away from her sturdy shoulders to look at her taller counterpart.

Rose plays with the strands of her bubblegum pink hair, smacking her lips together before she speaks up. “People say it’s about Eunji Song, but I think there’s a line of girls that say it’s about her.”

“Wonwoo’s totally a womanizer.” Another host says, fashionable in the way he dresses, one leg crossed over the other. “We have fourteen idols who have been linked with him, three models, one entrepreneur and all in the last two years. We don’t even know who could’ve slipped the public eye.”

Rose takes a sharp breath, her teeth clattering in a way that has Wonwoo closing his eyes tightly. Two models, and that was about it. Neither lasting more than a week. Neither meant to be more to him. Just two people that he happened to come across with, and helped him forget. Well, tried to, at least. “He has even more lovers than Vernon!”

“Vernon’s been with the same girl for a while. Maybe, he could learn a thing or two about a committed relationship.”

The first host chuckles at their words, shaking her head in the process. “Everyone’s into drummers. I think he just likes the attention.”

The lonesome tune of Hoshi’s old guitar stops playing in the background, and Vernon’s soft snores mix with the cars passing by. His fingers reach for the remote, turning off the TV before those words stain his heart even further.

“Want to talk about it?” The bleached blonde man in the room asks, resting his cheek against his guitar to pay his utmost attention to him. “Vernon knows. Love does, too. But you’ve never told me what happened with your Valentine.”

Maybe, Hoshi seems like the kind who doesn’t take anything seriously—but he does. His eyes glaze over as he quietly speaks into the night, but Wonwoo can only stand up from his seat, eager to lock himself in his own room and think of what exactly happened. He doesn’t know what’s going on inside his head. “It’s nothing special,” But it is. Wonwoo believed in a lot of things—that Van Gogh was the best artist of his generation, that knowledge is the best form of revenge, and that she was his person. The only individual in this world that could see him for who he was and still, gauged him to be better. “Just what happens to everyone.” He fixes his jeans then, hanging low on his hips when Hoshi scoffs.

“What happens to everyone?”

“…Just, falling in love and never being able to make it work.”

“That’s not your fault.”

He stops in front of the door that leads to his room, and he wants to believe what Hoshi says. Maybe, if she had understood him as an artist, they’d be together. Perhaps, if he had just listened to her, he wouldn’t have written an entire album about heartbreak. It was not inherently his fault, but partly, like DNA that splits in two and creates the atrocity of what they were. The beauty in the fallout. “I’m heading to sleep.”

A hand wraps around his thigh, caging him in his spot when Hoshi, with a widened gaze, asks: “Who is it about?” The gossip must’ve gotten to him, too. Secrecy at its finest made an entire festival for the world to enjoy. “Like, who out of all the women they say it’s about…the album is actually written for.”

“None of them.” Wonwoo conquers, pushing his body away from him with a dizzied smile on his face. “…And that’s all I’m saying.”

“Wonwoo—!”

“I’m not saying who it is about.”

“…Damn it.” Hoshi adds, finally leaning back on his seat and returning to his guitar, soon after playing a tune with a few invented lyrics: “Jeon Wonwoo has a stick up his ass…”

The door closes behind him with a swoosh, all thoughts of rationality building themselves down out of pure impotence. The room is far too tiny, and Hoshi will join him sooner than later when he finishes his little guitar rendezvous, but that’s far from the point now. With each step he takes towards his bed, the more he notices his phone. Changed it like four times in the past two years because of crazy groupies, obsessed people sending him threats and just because he could do so. He wanted change so much that he doesn’t need it anymore.

The bed welcomes his weight as if he had never left, molding to his every curve, bouncing at his mere presence. His fingers subtly reach for his phone, lurking through his contacts like a man searching for answers.

His past lover is taken, and he’s stupid enough to press down on her contact even when he’s not drunk. Not an ounce of alcohol clads his vision, his stance, and that only makes it more pathetic.

But, how could she be taken? If love’s not as easy to get rid of for him, it should be difficult for her, too.

The ringing stops, and someone picks up, though the voice that welcomes him is old, a femme to be exact, but definitely over her sixties. “Hello?” She asks on the voice, and Wonwoo closes his eyes tightly out of embarrassment. “Who is calling this late?”

Right, a sixty-something-year-old woman is probably not used to two in the morning calls.

But who is, actually?

Out of embarrassment, his thumb presses down on the red button and he’s once again left with his silence. This has to mean that he should stop—calling his ex-girlfriend, who said was taken, is not the worst thing he has done, but it’s outright pathetic. For a second, he thinks of texting someone else—a friend, a model, a singer, someone who clearly wants to pay attention to him, who wouldn’t mind having the star of the year talking to them about anything and everything but her.

Yet, his mind can only think about an old friend, and it’s not even a friend to start with. Calling him would earn him a few insults, so he opts to text the only direct line he has to what he wants to get back. The thread that could move him closer to getting an answer.

To: Xu Minghao.

Hello, Minghao. This is Wonwoo.

Jeon Wonwoo from Love’s Midnight.

Minghao probably recognizes him more as his friend’s ex-boyfriend, but hey, he doesn’t know what to say.

Still, he mentions her name.

To: Xu Minghao.

Do you have her number?

I really need to talk to her.

For a few seconds, he wishes he could dissipate. Of course, Xu Minghao probably has made his life, twirled in his bedsheets and perhaps, with a lover that fits him better than he ever fit his ex. He’ll probably get insulted nonetheless, knowing just how protective he is over the podcast host. It’s two in the fucking morning, Wonwoo’s not drunk, but he really wishes he was so he could have an excuse for being…

Stupid.

A dick.

From: Xu Minghao.

Are you drunk?

To: Xu Minghao.

No.

From: Xu Minghao.

Are you planning on getting drunk?

To: Xu Minghao.

No.

Her number is linked soon after, not without forgetting to add something else.

From: Xu Minghao.

Anything you say can and will be held against you.

I’ll know if you do something stupid.

Don’t fuck it up, dude.

The thing is that Wonwoo is a thinker. Immature at times, or most of the time, but really an overthinker. His dad always told him that going through life as if he’s in a game of chess would help him make right decisions. Count every movement as a step forward, but also a step closer to either winning or losing. Each and every action could cause the fallout of others, of himself, or absolute success. He doesn’t know where he stands as the phone rings and he awaits her response.

“Hello?”

That groggy tone, he has heard before. Whenever someone wakes her up from a nap or a deep night of sleep, her voice seems to be eerily quiet. It’s the only time he has heard her something far from perfect, not as knowledgeable as she is. Love-filled confessions were given at the peak of the night, when Wonwoo’s fingers would ghost over the delicate spot on her waist and she’d grasp his hand with her warm ones and say: I love you.

Muffled, silent, followed by sleep, and yet so meaningful.

“What do you mean you’re taken?” Wonwoo wants to say a million things. Say hi, and indicate that her podcast has only gotten better. That he’s sorry for not believing in her, or rather, not knowing how to show it. However, his mind is clouded with the image of her, holding hands with someone else, kissing someone else, being in absolute love with someone that is not him—and making it work. Egotistic as it can be, he is.

The bed ruffles, and for a moment, she’s silent. Too unlike her until she breathes out, much more awake now, surprised even. “Wonwoo, why are you calling me?”

The only time he has heard that surprised tone was after their first kiss. One would think that someone as beautiful as her would’ve kissed him with little to no reaction after, but his collarbones can almost feel the weight of her face at the memory. Her features hid away from him, the dumbest of smiles accompanied with a few giggles of her own. It was as if she had been waiting for him, and he had taken too long.

It’s not that different now.

“I—Uh, I needed to hear you. Hear from you.” Wonwoo doesn’t know what to say, straightening up his position on the bed and taking his pillow to slot his fingertips against the fabric. “I told you what I really felt and what I did, and all you do is ignore me.”

“I’m not friends with my exes, sorry.” She replies, and Wonwoo is about to retaliate, but the words have come back to her. Angry. Burning. Scalding. “And why in all the fucking hell would I have to tell you why I’m taken?”

“Because—” He wants to be honest for the first time in a while. With himself and with her. “Because we used to be friends before we were lovers, and I still care about the kind of person you’re seeing—”

“Do you really care?” The scoff that leaves her lips brings a frown to his face. “Go ask one of your models, or Song Eunji, about who they’re seeing and what they’re doing with their romantic lives. You don’t need to protect me from anything.”

Oh, so she knew about Eunji. “I’m not with any of them.”

“And you’re not with me, either.”

Wonwoo has to run his fingers through his messy black hair in order to grasp onto something else, or organize his thoughts before he goes absolutely insane. “I’m not.”

Silence. “So, why are you calling?”

“Because I can’t stand the thought of you loving someone else.” He breathes out, and before she could interrupt him with one of her pointy, correct, honest speeches, he bares his heart and soul. “…I’ve only been yours, I’m still yours. I want to know who it is that made you not want to be mine again.”

Again must not be in her vocabulary, and if he listens close enough, he can hear the change in her breathing, as if she starts to live life slower. “So, you date some model and I’m supposed to stay single?”

Fuck.

“I didn’t date her.”

“Then, you slept with her. Or various women, I don’t know.”

He can only stay silent.

“I know we broke up, and it’s totally okay for you to do that, but why would you ask me to stay waiting for you, when you didn’t wait for me either?”

“Okay, shit, sorry.” Wonwoo tries to reorganize his thoughts. He’s stupid. She wasn’t wrong when she said most men are stupid in the past, and now he has entered the spectrum. “I did it because it just…I just…I needed to get you out of my head.”

“By sleeping with other women?”

“Two.”

“Oh, two.” She releases, sarcasm thick in her voice. “What would you do if I said I have had more than two?”

Wonwoo closes his eyes, imagining her going on dates or perhaps, simply looking for someone in a bar. For men to sweeten her lips with a taste of their own, before treating her like less than what she deserves. It’s not what he wants for her, but it’s the same medicine he took. “It’d suck, but it’d be acceptable. We are not together.”

“Exactly.”

“…But who is it?”

“Who?”

“Who is the person you’re seeing right now? Out of your repertoire of people.”

She remains silent for a few seconds, as if she’s thinking too deeply, and yet, Wonwoo can’t keep his mouth from running. For the first time in his life, he wants to say a lot instead of saying nothing at all.

“No one.” She whispers into the dark night, the lullaby of his dreams coming directly from his lips. He wants to call it a second chance, but it just means solitude. “…Because unlike you, I wasn’t able to move on as easily.”

“I didn’t, fuck, I didn’t move on.” Wonwoo replies, laying on his stomach as he hides his face on the sheets. “I was just stupid. I don’t know how to explain myself.”

“Do so or I’ll hang up. Last chance to hear my voice—”

“I wanted to get over you, and I thought I’d do what most rockstars do. I’d just sleep with someone and feel powerful, like I don’t care…” His voice trails, eyes glistening when he lifts his gaze. “But I do care. I care about you.”

“…I don’t know if I should trust you.” The insecurity is palpable through her voice, as if she’s a star in this sky and she’s only getting farther away from him. Tiny, miniscule for her; big and bright for him. “Wonwoo, we didn’t understand each other then, when we were barely starting to be the people we wanted to be. How would we understand each other now that my podcast is doing the best it has ever done, and you have about every woman in this damned country wanting to throw their wet panties at you?”

Looking up at the ceiling, Wonwoo wants to say the truth. What he has always regret not telling her. “I’ll always try my hardest for you. I didn’t do it then, but I’d go back and do it differently if I could.”

The line cuts short after she hangs up, leaving him with no more than a sharp intake of breath.

###

The chocolate on the man’s ice-cream cracks under the force of his teeth, sliced nuts meeting the white substance in between—vanilla ice-cream, most likely, with a few lines of caramel. She had forgotten just how much Mingyu seemed to enjoy life, lips forever petrified in a smile as he looked around in the ice cream shop. Her delight has disappeared into the depths of her stomach, but Mingyu is on his second ice cream. Not a care in this world. Not a single wrinkle on his face to indicate he is feeling the weather a little bit strongly. He’s just eating, living, existing, breathing.

Jade tagged along, because something about her being in his father’s label and Mingyu absolutely needing guitar classes means that they had to ask her to come to their little ‘not a date’. Judging by the way Jade’s cheeks stain pink, and how she continuously play with the strands of hair, becoming a shy version of herself she had rarely gotten to see—unless they went to a concert and got to meet the artists backstage—, she thinks there is a reason why everything felt so inherently wrong with Mingyu, and with her setting up date for Minghao and Jade.

The young woman’s eyes glaze over when Mingyu smiles at her, and her fingertips reach for his lips to rub the chocolate away. Those stares, in between shyness and comfort, in the stage of not knowing what to say and yet, doing everything all at once—she lived that with Wonwoo, and she knows they’re probably less than a month away from calling it the truth.

So, she stands up, because if she can do something right in this life it’s making two people get together, even if she has to fake a few actions in the process. “I’m getting another ice cream. Want one, Jade?”

“We’ll share.” Mingyu adds, already putting his newly bitten chocolate ice cream up to Jade’s lips, and he barely ignores Jade’s widened eyes as she wraps her lips around the sweet and bites on the chocolate.

“Okay…” She whispers, lifting her hands in the air with her phone dinging in between her fingertips. “I’ll be right back.”

She doesn’t miss the way that Jade whispers ‘take your time’, before Mingyu joins her with sweet laughter.

Ugh, love.

It’s so motherfucking annoying when you don’t have it.

But, let’s admit it—it’s cute in its early stages.

To: Hao.

So, when I set you up with Jade…

From: Hao.

You mean: Worst idea you’ve ever had?

To: Hao.

Yeah.

Did you hate me for it because Jade’s not your type, or because you knew she’d be a better match for Mingyu?

From: Hao.

Jade denies it, but she’s always had a thing for Mingyu.

To: Hao.

Oh, tea?

From: Hao.

I guess.

She drunkenly admitted it to me once.

Well, initially she said she wanted Mingyu to tie her to a ceiling fan and make her spin.

But I continued to talk her out of it and she admitted that she thought he was cute.

And I’ve been working on building up her crush on him for a year straight.

To: Hao.

Trust Xu Minghao on finding the love of your life.

Upon approaching the counter to order her ice cream, she hears someone softly calling out her name. It’s a delicate voice, definitely not used a lot, as if the air could take away the words in one single swish. Locking her phone as she turns to the side, she sees a smaller young woman by her side. Probably on her teens, with black hair and red highlights, a band t-shirt representing the pinnacle of her youth. Long ago, before Jeon Wonwoo even existed in her life, she may have looked like this.

“It’s you.”

But she wouldn’t have said that to a complete stranger, lowering her voice to a deep whisper as she clings onto her backpack. The pins read Love’s Midnight name and logo, making her swallow harshly.

“Sorry, I don’t know you—”

The teen fan gets her phone out of her pocket, lurking through her pictures as she speaks. “You’re the woman Valentine was written about,” The lisp on her tone is ever-present, clinging to her every syllable as she shows the device to her, pictures with Wonwoo displayed one by one, moved by her finger to show even more proof. Her face behind important pictures of their first few gigs, a few messages in social media that she was sure she deleted before— “Fans have been going crazy trying to find who it was about, but I saw you in the pictures and decided to look you up.”

She has to take a step back. Fear overtakes her. A young fan could do anything they wanted with this information, and if she was able to find all that…this is not the normal kind of fan. With shaking fingertips, she clasps her phone against her chest. “Did you follow me here, kid?”

“No. This is dad’s ice cream shop.” A smack of her bubblegum fills the air, twirling her finger against the straps of her backpack. “…I just saw you here and I thought it was destiny.”

“It’s not destiny.” She speaks, curt and clear. “And also, I’m not the woman you’re looking for. Sorry.”

“You’re in all his pictures from the past—”

“We were friends.” And she doesn’t know why she’s explaining this to a teenager, instead of actually calling her father and telling him that her daughter is batshit crazy. “And it’s none of your business, ain’t it? If you really like a celebrity, you need to learn how to respect their privacy.”

“Everyone is looking for his Valentine, and if I am right with my assumptions, we’ll finally get to know—”

“What do you earn from it?” Turning around, she spares one glance at Mingyu and Jade, with Mingyu looking at them with a frown on their features. Confusion, definitely. “Whoever it is, that’s the drummer’s issue.”

“It’s you! It’s so you!” The teenager says, a smile on her face as she jumps on her spot. “The blog’s so gonna love this!”

Grasping her hand with force on top of the teenager’s, she sighs deeply. “Don’t do that. That’s wrong.” She starts, eyes raking over the room before clearing her throat. “One day, you’re going to be older, and you’re going to realize those people you look up to are as normal as you are. You don’t need to make them more important than they already are, for you or for anyone. Don’t let being a fan of someone take over your life.”

The teen looks down at their joined hands, eyelashes fluttering with the heavy mascara, chest going up and down with each breath she takes, deeper than the last. “Okay, sorry…” She whispers, pulling away from her. “I must’ve gotten it wrong.”

“Don’t worry, I was also a fan of some people in my time.” She shrugs, returning her gaze to her friends to give them a tight smile. Everything’s alright. “Thank you for understanding.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Alright, thank you.”

The problem is that only that night when she gets home, Minghao links her straight to an article, written fresh from the oven and reading:

Forty Women (+1 Unexpected Guest) That Can Be The Inspiration Behind Love’s Midnight’s Valentine!

Scrolling down with shaking fingertips, she prays to the heaven for her to not be in that list—for it to be another rumor, another person that has been wanting to be thought of by Jeon Wonwoo, but once she reaches spot number forty-one, her heart feels like it has fallen out of her chest.

Her name is on the forty-first spot.

41. Podcast Host, Communication Major, Music Minor: This one is the most unexpected, yet the newest guess. Fans were able to compile pictures of two or three years ago of Jeon Wonwoo and this podcast host. Not only that, but she seemed to be close friends with Vernon, Love and Andy! Ouch!

Personal pictures were attached under the small paragraph, tugging at her heart strings.

Isn’t that the pink dress Wonwoo always talked about? Or could it be Song Eunji’s favorite color?

As if things couldn’t get any harder…

###

This is Eunkyung’s little dream. Her tea party filled with reporters, cameras, flashes, cigarettes and bodyguards. Everyone says that what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger—and he feels like he has become a weightlifter with how much he has coped with, leaning back on his seat as the reporters in front of them beg to eat them alive. Each question pointier than the other, each silence dragging on for longer than the last. The center of attention is not the album, not Hoshi’s guitar solos or Vernon’s enigmatic bass skills. The center of attention is that Jeon Wonwoo had fallen in love, and couldn’t seem to get his old lover back.

His friends are different, and so is he. It should make him feel better that the evolution is ever-present in their lives, but it isn’t. The man he sees projected on the glass of water in front of him is exactly who he would’ve never thought he’d become. His black hair is pushed away, forehead is full display, not a single imperfection left for the world to see as he’s covered in makeup. The red leather jacket makes him sweaty, but he still wears it. It’s a gift from Versace and there’s only two of them in the entire world; he just has to wear it, according to his stylist.

One of the reporters stands up from his seat, fixing the blue sweater atop his toned body. The long strands of his black hair give him a bohemian look, but the preppy outfit and the glasses make him look somewhat nerdy. He could definitely be a reporter in music, but Wonwoo doesn’t really give a shit, does he?

“Wonwoo, excuse me—” The man starts, voice as nasal as ever as he brings his recorder up to his lips. “Forty-one women have been linked to be your muse for the latest album, but only one of them stands out.” He already knows the answer. Song Eunji. If rolling his eyes was an option, he’d do it, but he’s been staring at the cameras flashing for too long and his eyes feel like they may give up on him at any moment.

“Sorry, uh, we said no questions about that.” Wonwoo leans forward on his microphone, offering a brief smile in order to keep it at peace. The least he wants is drama for being an absolute diva.

The reporter doesn’t listen, calling out her name as if he knew her. As if they had shared cups of coffee, mornings where conversations merged into memories, nights in which her tears couldn’t be stopped with memories of either really good or really bad times. “…Podcast host and communication graduate, whose connection with you was clarified by your fans after finding pictures from two years ago, seemingly in a relationship with you.”

Fuck.

Where was his publicist when he needed her the most?

He didn’t know that his fans were able to find such things. Each trace of his past with her had been deleted—for the sake of his band, and for the sake of forgetting her. “I won’t make any statements.”

“So, you do admit that you were in a relationship with her?”

“I said,” He presses his lips to the microphone, lifting his eyebrows in the process. “No statements. Meaning, no comment.”

“Ignoring my question is a confirmation, Wonwoo.”

This time around, Vernon is the one who takes place in the interview. “Ignoring his complaints about not wanting to answer is a confirmation of your lack of knowledge in reporting, sir.”

The masses in front of them go crazy, each asking questions louder than the last, penetrating his ears with absolute hatred. Wonwoo stumbles backwards by the time his body leaves his seat, shaking his head when his manager tries to reach out for him, make him sit down before he absolutely ruins his career. Yet, the only person he can think about is her. His fans had found her, the reporters knew about her, too. A life void of privacy simply because of him.

Once backstage, his shoulders tense, cradling his phone in between his hands and bringing it up to his ear. The phone rings a few times, but she always hangs up. Each and every call is ignored exactly in its beginning.

From: Jeon Wonwoo.

I didn’t tell anyone about us.

Tell me you’re alright, please.

Please, answer the phone.

Are you okay?

Why aren’t you answering?

I’m sorry for everything.

Regret bites at him, slices him to bits as he sits down on the sofa, hearing the commotion outside and yet, doing nothing to conceal it. Love would hate him for this, tension rising between them ever since he became the center of attention—but he never asked for this. If he could take it back to the time in which he had her, and Love’s Midnight only played small gigs in some bars downtown, he would.

And he’s been meaning to.

To: Jeon Wonwoo.

I know you didn’t tell anyone.

I’m alright.

I just need time to think of what I’m going to do.

From: Jeon Wonwoo.

I could book a hotel for you so you feel safer.

Paparazzi are going to look for you.

To: Jeon Wonwoo.

I’m staying at Minghao’s, don’t worry.

From: Jeon Wonwoo.

Fine, but take care of yourself.

To: Jeon Wonwoo.

Wonwoo?

He can imagine her, calling out his name softly as if she had never left him, as if everything was alright—

From: Jeon Wonwoo.

Tell me.

To: Jeon Wonwoo.

I need you to take care, as well.

I don’t want you to stress out over this.

From: Jeon Wonwoo.

I’ll take care, baby.

Before he could regret what he said last, she left him on read. As if she had heard him too, but decided not to listen.

###

The only beverage Minghao’s going to give her while staying at his place is lukewarm tea with honey. No matter how hard she tries to get him to give her coffee, it doesn’t happen.

The cars pass by the windows, stuffed by her breath that fans upon the clear glass. Her heart can’t stay still, much like her hands, fiddling against the other, waiting for the bad news. They have arrived—the world knows her, and past the comfort of Minghao’s place, she knows there are cameras flashing in front of her house. They had captured her before she got here, and after endless twists from Minghao, they managed to get to his apartment safe, sound and unnoticed.

Each and every insecurity is highlighted by the cameras. The fact that there had been someone else after her mocks her—tells her that people are just going to end up comparing her to those after her, or even before her. Ghosts that never existed in Wonwoo’s life, too. Some may be taller, some more petite. Some may have a clearer tone of voice, others may be unable to speak in anything other than profanities. Some may kill it on the guitar, and some may kill for a guitar. Everyone in Wonwoo’s life has been so different and yet, she’s the only one with an entire album written about her.

It’s winning the feeling of feeling unique that makes her feel less like shit. Wonwoo cared enough about her to write a million apologies in the form of notes, for him to pour his entire heart out in a guitar, a set of drums, a piano, a voice, the bass—all inspired by her, they rotate around her like the constellations around the universe. The smile she misses had dissipated with the memories of them, and she wants to bring them back. Fuck two years, more than six hundred days, because time is just a concept we don’t understand.

“Hey,” Minghao’s hair is not disheveled, put-together like he’s about to go over the runway with the newest pajama collection from, probably, Louis Vuitton. His body leans against the doorframe, wood against his soft skin, looking at her with worry as she sits on the bed of the room in Minghao’s apartment that he doesn’t use. “There has to be some good to this.”

“Yeah?” She asks, tilting her head far enough for her forehead to rest against the window. “Tell me what it is.”

The tech moves closer until he is in front of her, delicately kneeling in front of her before patting her leg. “This could bring potential listeners to our podcast—”

“Or girls that will hate me because I’m dating their rocker fantasy. Minghao, get real.” Her voice isn’t meant to sound so sharp, but it does. Her world shatters while Minghao can only see from up close, first row, even.

“Don’t think about them. Think about you.”

“What am I supposed to think about?”

“What you want out of this. If this is only a sign from the world to just get in contact with Wonwoo and clear things up. His career, yours, your relationship—” Minghao is speaking too fast, fingers fiddling with his own hair before sighing. “And if you’re not going to do it, I am. I can’t keep seeing you haltering your life because a relationship didn’t work. You are the one that needs to get real.”

She pushes his hand away then, crossing her arms over her chest to shelter herself. “Well, hear me out, you haven’t been in love, but I have. It’s damn fucking annoying when it doesn’t work, and you think that’s the only man that will ever get you, know you, feel you like he does. It’s not the same when you imagined your entire life with a man and he’s suddenly taken away from you. He changes. Twists. He’s not the same anymore, but you know that deep within him, there’s that man you love.” Her chest shakes with every breath she takes, and Minghao takes this time to step away from her. “And you wait for him. Wait for the day he realizes that you never meant to make him feel bad, and hope that he never meant to say the words he said to you. You don’t know what regret is, but I do—”

“Just mend it.”

She wishes it could be that easy. “And then, what?”

“Why do you always have to think about the future?” Her eyes inspect Minghao’s features, as if pulling away every thread of his enigma.

“Because the future is always happier than the present, ain’t it?”

His hand hovers over her shoulder, as if he wants to touch her, shelter her, but he doesn’t. Instead, Minghao smacks his hand against his side, looking for his phone before speaking up. “It’s up to us to make our present happy, too.”

The only response he gets is the sound of her sipping on her tea. Bland tea that Minghao loves, but doesn’t keep him in the room as he closes the door behind him with a thud.

For some moments, she can only look ahead. The cameras follow her, and it wouldn’t surprise her if she closes her eyes, only to awaken to the world trying to get information about her—a picture where something sags in her body, or her pimples are visible, or the stress marks around her face become wrinkles. However, even sleep seems to be out of town today, and she can’t do much but watch some movies on TV. Let the world decide for her again. The Notebook. Then, she couldn’t quite look at the screen without tears on her face.

When sleep welcomes her, it doesn’t stay for long.

It’s like the culprit that opens the door to the room, closing it behind him with an accidental bang—like the way he left. When her eyes can finally clearly see the outline of him in the dark, Wonwoo becomes a living being after years of trying to erase him. Dark hair pushed away from his face thanks to the droplets of rain that had coated both his leather jacket and his black t-shirt. His boots squeak against the flooring when he moves, stopping whatever force brings him closer to her. Eddie The Eagle plays in the background, but no star has ever been as bright as him. As the twinkle in his eyes when he breathes out his name as if he had never forgotten the lullaby in it. As if, for some reason, she’d always have a taste of that tongue and those lips, even when they are nowhere near or over hers.

Proof that love exists beneath him, over him, in him, is when he asks: “Are you alright?”

She could say no, or even just confirm it. Her words could turn into lies or truths, but they decide to stay in between. With him, saying too little or too much is granted to be a loss. “…I could be worse.”

Wonwoo lets the jacket fall on the floor with a thud, and before he could part his lips to say anything else as he nears her, she asks:

“How did you get in?”

“I was hiding in some hotel downtown, when I realized I just couldn’t leave you alone through this.” His voice is gentle, barely above a whisper when the wind keeps blowing on the windows, rain pattering like droplets of paint. “So, I called Minghao, and he told me he’d leave the door open and I just could get in.”

“No one followed you, right?” Worry piles in her expression when mirrored in his starry eyes. The music of their love has lulled to a weak piano tune. They fell, lifted themselves up, only to be pushed to the ground again.

“I made sure no one did.” And the weight of him falls on the edge of the bed, the gray bedsheets wrinkling under his wet presence, leaving an imprint of him. A memory as strong as the ones she holds of him. “I’m sorry this is the way we ended up meeting again.”

Chances, figures in percentages that we don’t expect. We hope for them, and rarely get them. The chance of meeting Wonwoo again was lost thanks to his lack of privacy, but it would a lie if she said she hadn’t been worrying about him all night. In the edge of the bed, biting at her nails, wanting nothing more than to reach out for him.

Who loves you now, Wonwoo?

Who loves you more than I do?

Is it the world? Your fans? Your bandmates? Is it someone else?

Have you been loved at all while I have been gone?

“It had to happen someday,” She whispers into the night, bringing her knees up her chest, taking her coat off and tossing it his way. The cotton material meets his hands quickly, draping it over his body as if the tears that had been dropped in the same garment manage to warm him up. “Not the way I expected it to happen—”

His lips quirk up in a shy smile, shivering with happiness and glee, or perhaps from the coldness of the room. “You expected it to happen?”

It’s her time to shut her mouth for a second, thinking of the next step. “…It’s one of those vague daydreams I have. What would happen if we met again?”

“And what did you think was going to happen?”

“…That I’d try to run away.” She replies, and his smile falls at that moment. Yet, she doesn’t want to lie to him. “But if you got close enough, I’d start thinking of your hands around my waist, or the little kisses you used to press to my hands when you held them, and I wouldn’t be able to keep myself away from you.”

Wonwoo gets closer, like a wanderer trying to land on his preferred island. Swimming through their insecurities, the issues that pulled them away— “I like that.”

“You do?” She asks. “I think I sound stupid.”

“…Love’s like that.” He shrugs. “I took the stupid decision to write an entire album about you, but here’s the thing: I don’t regret it.” His words condense every single bit of coldness inside her chest, letting the tremble of his voice awaken the senses that never left her, loving him to death. “If writing a song about you is a sin, take me to hell.”

Kicking him softly on the leg, she chuckles. “Metaphorical as ever.”

“I like to read.”

“I know, you liked reading more than talking to me.” There, one of the issues of their relationship arises.

“And you don’t know how many books I have wished to un-read just to hear you talking again.” He replies, sighing soon after as he plays with one of the threads of the blanket. “But that’s life. I make bad decisions, they bite me in the ass, and then, I try to mend it.”

“And how are you planning to mend it?”

His arms extend at that moment, taut muscles contracting against the wet shirt. “I offer a hug for the night, if that’s alright.”

She wants to say no, but her body welcomes his embrace, feeling his strong chest pressed against hers, the curve of his spine, the way his scent always seems to be there—so warm, so his, so memorable, and yet, unable to feel as strong as a perfume. It is as though the scent of him drenched in rain makes her feel better, not quite as cold as in that bed alone, even when her skin clads itself in goosebumps. Her heart thumps with so much force that he probably feels it against his waist, in the way he leans back and cocoons her into place. She can’t look at him, just because she knows herself, and she’s one centimeter away from falling.

“It’s what I need.”

“Good.”

Zero point five centimeters away from falling.

Then, his breathing becomes tranquil, and his lips rest atop her hair.

Zero point twenty-five centimeters away from falling…

Zero point seventeen…

Fallen.

###

She knows he is still in that apartment when she hears his fingertips drumming against the counter.

You know, that’s also one of the issues of their relationship…the one they had two years ago. Waking up to the sound of Wonwoo playing whatever ACDC song on their kitchen counter wasn’t a pleasant noise in the past. When she’d go to the bathroom, phone perched in between her fingertips, she’d feel the rhythm thrumming through the tiles, interrupting her precious time of privacy. He’d do it before going to sleep, when bored, when watching a show but on her legs. It’s one of those things she’d ask him to stop doing, but as her eyes open and she comes face to face with the opened door, she feels safe.

Because Wonwoo is there, and that’s more than she could ask at this moment where her name is imprinted in every magazine. Her hand looks for her phone, and for a moment, she wants to stop. God knows what most of the pages she follows on her Instagram page must have written about her—gossip sites that she is not proud of following, but does it to have topics to talk about in her podcast. Whatever. She’s a nobody, there is surely one or two things about her—

But when the light of her phone casts down on her with horrid pictures of her going through the seas of paparazzi to get out of there as soon as possible, she feels shallow.

She’s not a podcast host.

Not Wonwoo’s ex-girlfriend.

But Song Eunji’s rival.

Comparisons, one after the other, from physical appearance to the ultimate statement coming directly from Eunji. Some messages that could be understood as a simple song lyric, if it wasn’t from Wonwoo’s song itself, displayed on a throwback picture of the two of them. Finished, with of course, as much class as the model can have on an apparent drunken night, when she writes down on her caption—

Shout out to the man who writes an entire album about me and yet, can’t last more than four minutes in bed. Love you, Woo.

The laughing emojis after surely don’t settle well in her stomach.

She has to put the phone to the side to think about what bothers her—Wonwoo being with Eunji could be it, but it could also be Eunji taking the spotlight that does it. Maybe, it’s just the fact that she’s involved in all of this, covers thrown away from her body as she goes towards the kitchen, only to watch her best friend and ex-boyfriend seated face to face. Minghao, peacefully drinking from a cup of warm tea, and Wonwoo making conversation as he plays whatever difficult song he can’t seem to get out of his head.

It’s the fact that she hates it—this feeling that tells her she’s proud of being his muse, but in secret. It’s the fact that, all this time, she’d rather have him than anyone else—words be forgotten, actions be damned, only at this moment when his eyes meet hers again, and he dares say:

“Good morning. Slept well?”

How not to think of the fact that, after pushing him to the bathroom to get him to change into warmer, drier clothes from Minghao’s closet, she ended up falling sleep on his arms? That being in silence felt comfortable when around him? That healing is not quite complete when she can’t have him?

“Better than I expected.” She whispers, moving over until she is closer to him, inspecting his features before breathing out softly. “Eunji said the album is about her. People are going crazy over it.”

Wonwoo’s features soften for a second, head thrown back when a groan escapes his lips. “It’s not—”

“I need you to tell me why you wrote an entire album about me.” Her eyes don’t close, honesty overtaking her when her hands ball to her sides, breathing controlled, world stopping just for her to listen to him.

Wonwoo’s brown eyes shake, looking over to Minghao as the dullest shade of pink takes over his face, bathing him in an enchanting glow. “To forget about you,” He says, though he laughs at his antics a bit soon after. “Didn’t work out.”

“Why did you want to forget about me?”

“I thought you’d never come back.”

“And did you want me to come back?”

“From the moment you left that hotel room.”

“Why?”

“…I’m going to leave.” Minghao announces softly, already parting ways to go to his room with his mug of tea, but she can’t keep her eyes away from Wonwoo much longer. The question lingers in the air, just in time for him to connect his hands with hers.

“Why, Wonwoo? Why write about me, think about me, when you could’ve just let go?”

“It’s not that easy when it’s about you.” He says, a small smile playing on his features when he pulls her closer, not all at once but step by step. Slowly, she falls in between his legs, looks into his eyes when he lets sincerity live within his words. “I got everything I could ever wish for, and I still wanted you.”

“…Oh, God.” Her smile can’t hide itself when she wraps her arms around his shoulders, head resting on his chest as she chuckles. “Why do I like that so much?”

“Maybe, because you wanted me back, too?” The hope lingers on his voice, and she has to pull away for a second, looking up and down his features as she licks his lips.

“Let’s fix this entire mess first.”

“I’ll deny you are my album’s muse if that makes you feel better.”

For a moment, she feels the weight falling off her shoulders, but instead, she perks up, spine straightening when she says: “And why not confirm it instead?”

“Would you want to? This world I live in, it’s not good—”

“If I have to confirm a past relationship just to have you again, I will. I would.”

“…I won’t do that to you.” Wonwoo whispers, lips pressing to her knuckles like they used to at the earliest stages of their relationship. “You know what I want to do? Mend the lost time with you. Think and heal together. Talk to each other. I don’t want anyone else but us having a say on what we are…not stardom, not the band, not anyone.”

When she looks into his eyes, it feels like the old Wonwoo is back. Not the rockstar drummer that everyone has fallen for, but Jeon Wonwoo who’d laugh at the idea of ever being famous.

And it’s nice to think the world is different today, that they’re alone and there are not a thousand pictures of her online.

“Let them talk,” He finishes. “The only person I want to listen to is you, anyways.”

An avenue of tears has welcomed a sweet lake, and when she has seen her reflection in the water, she captures Wonwoo’s figure beside her. Maybe, they can get through this together. Perhaps, music united them, separated them, and now it has brought them back together again.

That’s the magic of love, isn’t it? Trusting again.

“…And you’ll hear me talk a lot about the past two years, Jeon Wonwoo.”

With a smile, he answers. “And I’ll gladly listen.”

Though, the only sound she gets to hear is the small intake of breath from his lips when she leans forward and tastes the early morning cigarettes in him. Everything she has ever wanted exists in him, so imperfect and yet, so fitting for her.

#wonwoo scenarios #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo #seventeen #kpop scenarios #writing #wonwoo au #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo angst #seventeen au #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #drummer!au #yea i wrote about wonwoo bc whenever i have wifi i have binge watched gose lemme be #also SUPER inspired by one of those ask games i did and hehehehehe i'm excited

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